#hit it john lemon

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi Bunny,

I've been following your page for awhile and was wondering if I could order some John Price Lemon slices and beer brownies on the house??

I adore your stories and writing style, and you are in fact someone's girlfriends favorite author 😌

Hope your day is wonderful n thank you ♥︎

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i know i've been horribly lacking at call of duty bakery fics! but with call of duty i'll get an idea in my head that is seperate than the bakery fics. i still deeply love my boys (and esp john price), so i'll try to be more on top of the call of duty fics because so many of you have been so sweet with your prompts <3 (also john price would totally love beer brownies just as a dessert, lol)

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." + beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." + on the house (matcha latte: collars/bondage)

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, sub!reader, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), wife!reader, wife/domestic kink, carpet sex, oral sex, pet names (puppy, baby girl)

price liked being the man of the house. while most times your relationship was an equal affair. price admired you like flowers did the sun. he'd never hurt his baby girl, even with the age gap that would make some gawk at. a man in his near fifties with a woman who was just out of university. plus, he made her a stay-at-home wife within three months of dating?

there had to be something else going on. even your parents were a little shocked at the news. but neither of you cared, you were happy. and since your parents wouldn't let you move in with such an older man, the only thing to do was to get married. and now every night price got to be the man of the house and have his lovely girl serve him.

after dinner was served you were on your knees in front of him while he watched television. it was hard for him to focus on the game while your nose was nestled against his dark pubic hair. his grip on the can of beer was tight, any tighter and he'd crush the thing in his palm.

he was so much bigger than you, stronger than you. there was a weight to him that could leave you pinned under him. he was so strong and masculine that you couldn't help yourself but be enthralled by him. you continued to pleasure him orally, but occasionally you made small noises which was accompanied by your thighs rubbing together.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said as he took you by the head of the head and made you look at him. you panted heavily and looked at him with a lustful expression across your features. poor little wifey got too excited.

price chuckled and patted your cheek a roughly, "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." he laughed a little, "maybe i should get the collar out, since you like being my puppy so badly." you whined in response and price pulled away to tuck himself back in his jeans. when he got up, he looked down at you and said, "you stay put, i don't need you getting in trouble, baby girl." then left for the bedroom.

you waited patiently and felt heat curl in your gut. you liked price like this, domineering. when he used his age, height, size against you. when he made you feel small in the best ways. when he returned you could see the green collar in his hands.

it wasn't a neon green, but rather a rich forest green. you swallowed and shifted a little in your spot. when he sat down on the couch with a 'huff' he patted his thigh so you'd climb onto his lap. you did without question and he placed the pretty collar around your neck. then his hand was on your bare thigh, he got to see you naked up close. after dinner you stripped down to give your husband dessert.

"pretty little thing." he said, his voice hot. you squirmed a little at his hands on you. on between your legs and the other supporting your back. he made a vow to love and protect you. even when you panted heavily from his touches.

his calloused fingertips grazed across your wet cunt and he dipped his head against your neck where he laid kisses across the heated skin.

"john."

"i got ya, sweetheart. my little pet." he teased your clit a little and you shuddered. he pulled you closer to him and teased your clit a little more before he said, "get on your hands and knees, beautiful. your mouth isn't enough tonight."

you scurried off, you were naked save for the ankle socks with little bows on them and the pretty green collar. you got onto the carpet and rested your face against your arms with your hips raised. price took one last swig of his beer before he got up and rubbed himself through his jeans. you looked at your husband, coyly, "like this?"

"i've trained you so well." he said as got down on the carpet. while a this age, it was hard to do it on the floor. but, he knew it was either that or up against the couch. the latter would only cause more pain in price's bad knee.

"thank you." you blushed, heat rose in your cheeks as you felt his pointer and middle finger touch your achy cunt again. your back arched. then you heard the clatter of his belt being fully taken off.

"this is how a wife should greet her husband every night. give him a fully belly and you walk away with a full cunt. ya like when i make a mess of her, don't ya?" he watched your back arch from his words. he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed the slick head up against your pussy, "been missin' her. had to finish myself off in the washroom at work because i was thinkin' about it."

price hated to admit it, but he loved the differences between you two. he kept his pretty wife happy at home, and maybe soon you'd have some company with a pet or a baby. price wasn't getting any younger, about time he used the last of his swimmers for something good.

he pushed his cock into you with ease and watched your tense up. it was really hot. in his honest opinion, you looked beyond beautiful. he was glad he got a ring on you as soon as he did because if anyone else tried to get their hands on you. that would be a problem. you whimpered and clawed into the cream carpet.

you knew your knees were going to be raw by the time your husband was done with you. but, you'd happily accept it regardless.

his pace was steady, on the faster side but every thrust had a force that made your toes curled. you loved your big, hairy husband. you adored how he made you feel, how he could easily move and twist you to his liking. he was dominant and strong, he never wanted his wife to worry.

"that's a good girl, my good little puppy. hearin' your little noises right now." he groaned, "you're a beautiful little thing. you know exactly how to get me goin'. lettin' my fuck you until you see stars." his pace picked up and you gasped into the floor.

"john." you arched your back. your body craved your husband. more than most else. you were never a party girl, but even if you were, your drug of choice would be having your husband, the cervix bully, make you cum time and time again.

it was slightly price's fault why you never went to parties. when he was home from deployment, he wanted to savour every moment with you. hard to go out with friends on a friday when price had you in a full nelson on his bed with his cock hitting just the right places. price didn't need boys sniffing around what was his. not that you'd give them the time of day. he held onto your hips tightly and pushed you further into the carpet as his cock dragged against your softest areas.

he said, "so pretty under me. you take me so well." you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your head as he continued to push up right against you. the feeling was erotic, as were the sounds of your sweet moans, "pretty in your collar. maybe i should've just gotten you a collar instead of a ring. a nice leash as well to make sure that you didn't go runnin' off. be a proper pup for me." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

his motor mouth made heat wash over you. it was hot in a way that made you want to cry out for more. poor mrs. price, must be such a shame to get fucked into a state of bliss by your domineering, stronger husband.

it wasn't long before you could feel the sparks in your brain as you panted heavily against the carpet. your knees were rubbed raw as were your forearms. thankfully not carpet burn on your face (this time). you panted heavily before you let out a sweet noise, your attempt to tell your lover you were cumming. your cunt tightened around his cock, which only spurred your husband to move faster.

"that's it, that's my baby girl." he groaned as he rammed his cock as fast as he could. he could hear your soft, post-orgasm moans. your back arched a little more before they dropped. which meant price had to hold onto them to get at the right angle of your pussy, "my good little wife."

a few more heavy thrusts and price finished inside of you. trusting you to keep the boys safe.he gripped onto your hips and really pushed into you as he tensed up. he then relaxed and felt his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pulled out.

a string of cum connected his cock to your pussy. really a match made in heavy. he licked his lips before he slowly got up with a bit of help from the coffee table. he wasn't the spry young man that he used to be. but you loved that about him, your burly old man.

not that you'd say that to him.

your hips dropped as you laid on the floor for a moment. achy and feeling euphoric at the same time. it was cute in price's eyes, after he got his cock back into his jeans once more. he picked up his wife and held you in his arms. he kissed your heated cheeks while you wrapped a leg around his waist for support.

"i got ya, baby girl. now let's get the wife to bed before i get hungry again." he knew you were on another planet right now. you held onto your husband tightly until he tucked you naked into bed, with the covers pulled up to your chin.

"what about the dinner dishes?" you asked.

price patted your cheek, "don't worry about them, beautiful. i can handle them." then let you rest with the familiar collar around your throat. <3

[flowerfreya]

Moving

The Office AU part 5

Pairing : poly!141 x reader

Content: reader breaks up with boyfriend ! Yayyyyy

Lmk if there are any major typos I did this on my phone lol

Masterlist

You know that calling him would be a waste of time but you're a glutton for punishment, “Where are you?”, you ask him, trying to sound normal but your body hit stages of grief in one fell swoop but seemed to get stuck at anger.

“You know that you're not out there by 4 p.m, I’m leaving your ass, I told you that”, he sounds so carefree, like what he did was fine and makes sense.

“I came down by 4:05 , you couldn’t wait five minutes?”

“No, I had to teach you a lesson”.

You look up at the sky like that will give you an answer, but you know the answer, you've known the answer and this has cemented it. You let out a sad chuckle and shake your head , this can’t be your life. You look over to your right and see John just staring at you, actually they are all staring at you. You give them a tight lipped smile and then a thumbs up, even though you know that they must have heard you on the phone with your now ex.

“You know what, fuck you”, and then you hang up.

“Do you need a ride”, Soap speaks up first. You look over and you know you have tears in your eyes, you don’t want to give him any of your tears but your so frustrated and angry and , sad. And you honestly cannot stand being in the presence of another man right now , “No, thanks”, you answer back.

“You sure”, Gaz speaks up.

“I’m sure”, you order an uber and your going to get your life together. Today. First, thing is that you do is go to the car dealership. You already researched the car , test drove it, and just needed to save for the down payment and since your worked at the office to get at least three paychecks you had enough.

~

You're outside your apartment in your new car, well it used but it's new to you and you need your stuff but you don’t want to go in alone. You're tapping your hands on the steering wheel thinking who you can call to help you out.You’re thinking about the scariest person you know and it’s Simon. The phone rings twice before he picks up,

“Hello”, his voice sounds deeper over the phone.

You introduce yourself again to him like he hasn’t worked with you for a month in half, “Hi, are you busy”, you try to sound cheary but you know you are trying too hard.

“Alright?”, he ask.

“Are you busy right now”

“Depends”

You then have to go through the whole spiel of how you need your stuff from your apartment but you kind of scared that your boyfriend will get rowdy when you try to get your things.

“Send me your address”.

~

A black SUV rounds the corner and pulls up right beside your car. Not only does the driver door open but so does the passenger and the back doors open with Price, Soap , and Gaz getting out as well. 

“New car, Hen?”Johnny asks. 

“Yeah got it today” , you know you could be nicer but you really don’t feel like making small talk right now, you just want to get your shit and go. Simon doesn’t look at you as he asks about what they are getting. 

“You all really didn’t need to come, I just needed some back up��� 

“Yes, we did”, says John, his fist are clenched and he’s working his jaw so hard it looks like he's chewing a lemon drop. 

“Not really , but okay”, you sas back. He cuts his eyes at you, tilts his head to the side and stares like he can see through the anger that you are using a shield and the anxiety of not knowing where you are going to sleep tonight. 

“You okay?”, he ask. No your not , but fuck it. 

“Fine, let’s go”, you croak out.

As you head up to your apartment, you don’t know where to put your hands and your hair starts to feel itchy. You just need to get in and get out , grabs some clothes, some pictures , and your makeup and go. Of course things are never that easy. 

Inside the apartment things are just as you left it this morning, which of course it is because your boyfriend is a lazy fuck. 

“Finally made it home?”, he says like everything’s fine and dandy and does he think your going to laugh at that. You opt to say nothing and just start getting your stuff ready. 

“Need any help getting stuff together?” , ask Soap

“Who is that ?”, that gets your ex to come out and find you. 

“They are helping me move”, you don’t look at him just continue getting your stuff and putting it in duffels. 

“What do you mean, move”, now he sounds confused like he can’t believe this.

You look at him then , eyes squinted , getting pissed off all over again, “did you really think that I was going to stay after that ?” 

“You're making a big deal out of nothing” , he argues back.

“No, I am not, we are done” 

Then he starts to do this weird whine thing , like he’s trying to make himself cry. He comes over to you and grabs you by the knees and begs , “please don’t leave me, please”. 

You shove him away from you but he tries to come back to you but they all three step in front of you like a wall. 

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you”, Simon says darkly. 

He keeps begging, and honestly it’s embarrassing, and it starts to make you feel better. He’s getting what he deserves. He continues to beg until you leave with your stuff. 

Once you get down the parking lot and your stuff in your car you turn back to the men that helped you, “Thank you, next beer on me” , you say with a smile. 

“We’ll take you up on the offer now” ,Soap laughs. 

“Oh”, you really didn’t think they would. You were being polite, to be honest. 

“Can we reschedule, I was hoping to go to sleep early today” , you say with a sad smile. 

“Where are staying”, Simon ask 

“Oh a hotel”, hopefully for your car or the office but they don’t need to know that. 

“Oh yeah, which one?, ask Gaz. 

“You know, down the street.”, is there one down the street? You hope so. 

“Did you make a reservation?”,  asked Soap. You turn towards him feeling a little bit overwhelmed with all the questions. 

“Ummmmm, yes” , no but you're going to make one when you ask for a room , right. It should be fine. 

~

They don’t believe you, not for one second. They want to take care of you, feed you , house you but they don’t want to scare you. It’s hard for them , they want to fully send it, that's what they usually do and it works for them but you're different, they can tell. For now, they need to start slow, at least as slow as they can. They get you in the car and have Price drive yours to the hotel that they deem the safest and nicest. They make sure that Price is the first to arrive, that he pays for the nicest room and when they move past the front desk without having to check in , they tell you to not worry about it. They take care of you, make sure you're safe and when you fall asleep without getting anything done, they unpack for you and the only payment they need is so they each get a pair of panties.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Some angst to fluff of himbo kiri finding out reader is pregnant?-🧚🏽‍♀️🧚🏽‍♀️

Red Riot: Unbreakable Baby Daddy

Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Eijiro Kirishima x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Angst to Fluff, Romance, Pregnancy, Smut

CW: MDNI!, A18+, PIV, pregnancy sex, oral, lemon, profanity

Link to My Master List

Well, shit.

You stand in your apartment bathroom nervously tapping your foot as you re-read the pregnancy test instructions. Plus sign means positive. Minus sign means negative. You grab the test with clumsy hands and it almost goes sailing into the toilet – almost. You manage to catch it before it hits the porcelain throne and you scramble to read it again. There, on the cheap drugstore pregnancy test, is the faintest of plus signs.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Okay – gotta think this through. Have you always wanted a baby? Yes. But are you ready for a baby now!?

Your mind whirs through all of the details of your life – steady partner? Check. Reliable source of income? Check. Decent living space? Check.

Sure, you’re a little younger than you would have liked, but to hell with it – you have everything you need to bring a baby into this world. So why the heck not!?

A baby! You’re going to have a baby. And not just any baby – Eijiro Kirishima’s baby.

You laugh giddily and race out of the bathroom to get your phone. It’s lying on the floral Ikea bedspread where you left it.

 You click open your home and see your background is currently an image of Keanu Reeves from John Wick. Oh. That’s right – you had swapped our your usual background pic of Kirishima for this image last night. After you two had fought for an hour.

Your petty revenge on Eijiro has always been to change your phone background to a hot, skinny actor. It always drives him a little crazy – he hates to see you lust over other celebrities. Especially the slim, emo looking ones – it always makes him a little on edge that his big muscular himbo body might no longer be your taste. It’s petty of you, and maybe even a little mean playing into your boyfriend’s insecurities like this…but it’s really the only ammo you have against him when you’re annoyed or angry. Of all the things a person could do to get back at their partner for something, having Keanu as your phone background doesn’t seem so bad.

You swipe to unlock your phone and pull up your last conversation with Kiri. You know you need to tell him ASAP, but the two of you haven’t spoken since your blowout the night before. It’s not as if you’ve broken up or anything, but you both needed some space.

You think back to the argument. The two of you rarely fight, but this particular quarrel had been festering for months. Kirishima maintains in public that he’s single. He refuses to put you in the spotlight, worrying that in announcing he’s “involved” with you, he’ll be putting you in harm’s way. He’s put away so many villains over the past decade, and he fears that they would come after you as revenge on Red Riot.

For months you’ve been telling him you’re ready to take on the risk. The two of you have been a couple for 3 years now. When he refuses to acknowledge that he has a girlfriend in the press, it makes you feel insecure. Does he not take this relationship seriously? Does he not think that you two are capable of going the distance? In private, he worships the ground you walk on, but is that all just for show when you’re alone?

The night before, you had expressed these fears and doubts, practically begging Eijiro to call his publicist and break the news that Japan’s Sturdy Hero is taken and off the dating market.

Aside from your personal insecurities, you hate seeing the way that women endlessly flirt with Eijiro in public. They ask for selfies, wrapping their hands around his thick biceps and planting chaste kisses on his chiseled cheek. Eijiro, being the manly hero he is, always vehemently shuts down their advances. But you always wonder, if the right pretty woman were to come along and ask for a date – would he say yes?

Despite your anxieties, Red Riot is unwaveringly loyal, and would never entertain the thought of cheating. But that doesn’t stop the media from insinuating that he’s dating a new super model or Pro Hero every other week. You hate seeing him plastered on magazines in the grocery store, photoshopped next to a Top 20 hero with a nice rack and a thousand watt smile.

You think back to the argument last night, replaying it in your head like an old film reel.

You had stood in your tiny apartment kitchen, cleaning up after a delicious dinner the two of you had cooked together. Earlier that day, you had seen a tabloid at the mall showing off a particularly salacious photo of Red Riot after a particularly gruesome battle – half of his uniform had been torn off, revealing budging muscles and his dark happy trail that disappeared into his work pants. The image showed your boyfriend sitting on the edge of an ambulance as a pretty nurse smiled up at him and wrapped up a wound on his arm. The tabloid had a flashy title splashed across the cover “Red Riot Finds Love in the Field!?” You had begrudgingly purchased the magazine, bringing it home so you could show Kiri how ridiculous the media is getting, and how much it bothers you.

“Look at this, Eij. I have to see these all the time.” You toss the magazine in his direction and he catches it, smirking at the image on the cover.

“Wow, how did they even get that picture? I didn’t see any press at that fight.” He wonders, flipping through to the article. “’Chivalrous Hero Red Riot does it again – defeats the villain and seemingly gets the girl. Did we see sparks between the sturdy hero and the pretty EMT patching him up? Sources on the ground say he asked the emergency worker to dinner to thank her for her efforts.’ Wow, babe, you’re totally right. They’re absolutely making shit up about me. But hey – I do think I look pretty good in this pic, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow and holds the article up for you to see – you didn’t see this picture earlier. You had been too angry to look at the actual article. The image shows Eijiro standing strong in his hero gear – his arms are crossed and a confident smile sparkles across his handsome face. The picture turns you on a bit – you always love the way he has learned to own the spotlight, to look unbreakable in the face of danger. It’s one of the reasons why you love him so damn much – his confidence in tough situations. You know that it took a lot of work for him to get to this point – he used to second guess himself so much when he was younger. But Eijiro had put in the time and the work in building his self esteem and his hero career, and now he is able to save people with a grin on his face. You’re so damn proud of the strong, capable hero he’s become.

You push down your arousal and get back to the point. “Yeah, babe. You always look great. But look…the point is I don’t like the way that they are always trying to ship you with whatever woman is in your vicinity. It really hurts me.” You pause, looking away from the article and getting back to washing your dishes in the sink. You pass a wet dish to Eijiro which he dries wordlessly before placing it in your dish cabinet. “I want you to tell people about me – I want to be part of your life in every way possible. Babe…please.”

“No.” He says soundly, before rattling off all of the reasons why he doesn’t want your relationship public. The two of you continue washing and drying dishes together as you talk.

“But Katsuki and Izuku’s relationship is public! Kyoka and Denki! Shoto and YaMomo!” You say accusatorily, shutting off the faucet as you finish washing the final bowl. You shove it into his chest pointedly and stalk off to the living room. He dries the bowl and places it on the counter before following. You plop down on the couch and cross your arms. Eijiro is giving you a weird, stricken look. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation.

“Babe. I’m gonna say something that’s going to really piss you off. But I need you to understand if from my point of view. All of our couple friends…well, yeah they can be public about their relationships. Because they’re all Pro Heroes. And you’re…well, you know. You’re not. You’re a citizen who never worked to develop your quirk and you have no true combat experience. It’s different with all of them.”

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and anger. “So what!?” You practically yell, hating to be reminded that you’re the only one in your boyfriend’s massive friend group who isn’t a Hero. “What does that matter? You think I can’t take care of myself!?”

“No, it’s not that. I just want you to think about the training we all have and the threats we face everyday. All of our friends can go toe to toe with the worst super villains known to society. So if some goon came after them looking for revenge…they would be able to deal with it. But babe…you’re not a Pro. I don’t want to get you involved in anything dangerous or scary. I need you to understand that and see if from my perspective.” He goes quiet, looking at you for an answer.

You’re furious. You can kind of understand where he’s coming from here, but whatever stretch of understanding you have is buried under pure undiluted rage.

“So your saying our relationship isn’t the same as all of your friend’s relationships? Ours isn’t worth celebrating and having public?”

“No, that’s not it at all! Babe. You are the most precious thing in my life and I do not want to put you in jeopardy. I need you to understand that.” He says pleadingly.

“I’m tired of seeing all those hot Pro Heros hanging on you and flirting with you on talk shows! I am sick of being quiet and watching other women fawn all over you like you’re some sort of man whore.”

“Y/N…you know that I don’t like getting that attention and that it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to set boundaries with my fans and co-workers and I do feel like people are starting to get more respectful about touching me. Babe, I know you don’t like that and I’m really pushing back when women get close to me out in the field. Please believe me.”

You do. Of course you believe him. But if everyone just knew about your existence, you’re sure they would back the fuck away from your boyfriend.

“Eij. I believe you and I understand where you’re coming from. But I’m so tired of feeling like I’m some kind of dirty secret. I’m just so angry right now, I don’t think I can talk about this anymore tonight. Just…leave.” You’re getting a stress headache. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes in an attempt to stave off the pain, but it just gets worse. You walk away, leaving him sitting on the couch and looking upset.

He calls out after you, but doesn’t follow. “Y/N! I just wish you really understood why I want to keep this private. Please.”

A few minutes later, you hear the door slam closed behind him. You don’t text or call each other for the rest of the night.

But none of that matters now. That stupid argument is nothing - not now that Eijiro’s baby is growing deep inside you. You shriek with excitement. You need to let your boyfriend know ASAP. He’s leaving on a big mission soon, and you need to make sure you catch him before he goes into his next strategy session with Katsuki, Sero and Izuku.

You scramble to swipe open your stupid screensaver and pull up your contacts. You hit Kirishima’s name and let it ring, bringing the phone to your ear with giddy excitement.

The phone rings and rings. Finally, you hear your boyfriend’s gravely voice pick up on the other end.

“…hello?” He sounds annoyed.

“Eijiro. I need you to come over to my apartment…like, ASAP.”

His voice instantly looses its cold edge. “What’s wrong? Y/N – is everything alright?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…I’m not sure! But I need you here right now. It’s urgent.”

“Is it about our fight last night? Because I’m still upset about it, but I am sorry if I minimized your feelings. I really can’t leave right now, we’re about to go and - ”

“Eij.” You cut him off midsentence. “I wouldn’t be asking you to leave work if it weren’t super important.”

He sighs, breathing out heavily into the phone receiver. “Okay. Give me 20 minutes.”

“Got it.”

He hangs up. It’s a mark of how upset he still is that he doesn’t end the call with his usual “Love you, sweetheart.” But you don’t care. You have a feeling that what you have to tell him will change everything.

The next 20 minutes are gonna feel like the longest of your life. You feel like you’re bursting at the seams with the news of your positive pregnancy test. You dance and twirl around the little apartment, using your frenetic energy to tidy. You clean the countertop and stove, flip through your junk mail and even fluff the pillows on your navy blue couch.

In a fit of inspiration, you scurry to your room and throw on your black silk dress. It’s sinfully tiny, with a slit running up the thigh. It’s by far Eijiro’s favorite outfit of yours. When he sees you in it, he can’t keep his hands off of you.

By the time that you hear his key turn in the apartment door, you’re fit to vibrate out of your skin you’re so excited. You watch him stumble in across the apartment threshold, looking world-weary and exhausted from a long day of mission strategy and patrolling.

“There’s my hero.” You say, running and throwing your arms around his thick, muscular neck. He catches you easily in his arms, his strong hands running down the smooth silk of your dress in disbelief.

“Is this your way of apologizing?” He mumbles into your shoulder. You laugh, giving him a squeeze before taking a step back from him.

“About that fight we had? It doesn’t matter right now. It’s irrelevant. I need you to forget about it.”

His eyes travel the length of your body, appreciating the way the dress hugs your curves. The slit up your thigh is of particular interest to his bright ruby eyes.

“Consider it forgotten.” He says, but he still sounds skeptical. “Now what was so urgent that you had me leave work in the middle of a strategy session? Bakugo almost ripped my head off when I told him I needed to come to your apartment.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that. He’ll understand.”

“You sound awfully confident about that.” Eijiro raises an eyebrow, a frown plastered on his handsome face. “Must be something pretty important.”

“It is.” You grab his hand, dragging him across your tiny apartment and towards the bathroom. “Join me in the restroom.”

“Uh…okay.” Eijiro is flabbergasted, tossing his workbag to the ground as he follows after you. You pull him into your small blue tiled bathroom and push him down to sit on the toilet seat. Some news is best taken sitting down.

“Alright.” You reach into the medicine cabinet to grab the orange washcloth that you’ve stowed the pregnancy test in. “Close your eyes.”

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He sounds a mix of exhausted, tired and annoyed.

“Just go with it. I promise it’s worth the wait.” He sighs and obeys, closing his eyes and turning his face up towards the ceiling. You marvel for a moment at how – despite his manly himbo physique – he’s just so damn pretty. You hope your baby inherits the sharp curve of his chin and those glimmering ruby eyes.

You unwrap the pregnancy test from the washcloth and hold it out like an offering in front of Eijiro.

“Okay.” You take a shaky breath. “Open your eyes.”

Eijiro does as he’s told and stares blankly at you and the test for a moment.

“What’s this…?” He starts to say, and then it registers. The pregnancy test. The tiny plus sign.

 “OH MY GOD.” He leaps off of where he’s sitting on the toilet seat and scrambles to grab the plastic strip from your hands. He holds it close to his eyes and then far away again, taking in the magnitude of what it means. “Is this what I think it is!? When? How!?” He looks up at you in wonder over the test.

“Remember that camping trip with all of our friends up at the lake? We borrowed Bakugo’s car so we could go pick up some pizza from town, but we ended up pulling off the road and fucking in the back seat before we cleared the woods.” You smile, thinking back to the fated trip a few weeks ago.

Eijiro’s face is ghostly white as his eyes widen in realization. “Oh my God – we didn’t use a condom.” He sucks in a breath.

“I asked if you wanted to cum in my mouth but you were just begging me to let you cum inside. You kept calling me “sweet heart” and the “love of my life.” And it was so pathetic and sweet that I thought oh, what the hell! Maybe just this once! And now here we are.”

“Oh my God.” Eijiro takes a few steps forward and then sinks to his knees before you on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. Even on kneeling, he’s just so tall. He brings his head down to rest on your belly. You tense up, unsure of what to say. Everything is still and quiet, and your nerves are on edge.

Finally, Eijiro looks up at you, his wide ruby eyes glimmering with tears. A shaky grin spreads across his face. “Babe…I’m so happy.”  He places a kiss to your stomach before disentangling himself. He gets back to his feet and pulls you back into his arms. “I’m sorry for that bullshit argument. It seems so silly now.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck. “I just…” You hear him choke back a sob, his shoulders shaking. “I love you so much. I can’t even tell you what this means to me…I always pictured us having kids someday, but it always seemed like such a distant future thing. And now here we are. Sure, it’s unplanned and there’s a lot we need to figure out. But God, I feel so lucky.”

This brings tears to your eyes as well. You hug him back, breathing in his scent deeply. He smells like cinnamon – you’re sure he grabbed one of his favorite cinnamon donut snacks on the walk over from his agency. You snuggle into his arms and stifle back come joyful crying.

“We’re going to have the most beautiful family, Eij.” You say into his thick chest.

“Yes, we are. I bet the baby will have your beautiful eyes, and that glowing smile.” He runs his hand over your back soothingly, reaching across you to gingerly place the pregnancy test on the sink counter.

“I hope it looks like you – shark teeth and all. Can you imagine? Red Riot, Jr.” You laugh. “You’ll have a little mini-Kiri running around.” You both grin at the image. “I should start calling you Red Riot: Unbreakable Baby Daddy.”

This makes Eijiro laugh. “Hey I like that! But wow, Y/N. Just wow.”

He sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, carrying you out of the bathroom and into your clean living room.

“We have so much to talk though. Hell, I should call out of that mission this week. We need to figure a ton out. Whose apartment do we want to move into – or should we get a new place together? We should do some financial planning, figure out childcare. What’s your job’s maternity leave policy look like? Shit, we’ll need to find a doula. Someone at the agency recommended having a doula. And at what point do we tell our friends? Our parents? Babe, you’ll need to build us one of your signature spreadsheets or planners or whatever, I - ”

“Shhh, Kiri.” You put a finger to his lips. “Babe, there’s plenty of time for all of that. Just let it sink in for a minute.” You’re wrapped up in his arms as he caries you across the room, holding you up like it’s nothing. Your Kirishima is such a strong hero, and you feel a fierce flame of pride flare up in your chest – this man is all yours.

You’re both silent for a moment, taking it all in. A baby. The two of you made a baby. It’s an incredible, almost unfathomable thought.

After a moment or two of quiet, Eijiro looks up at you mischievously. “So yeah, we can figure out all the financial and medical stuff later…but in terms of fuckin’…does this mean 9 months of unlimited cream pies?”

You shriek in surprise.

“OH MY GOD KIRI THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT RIGHT NOW!?” You cry out, your voice echoing through the apartment as you bat at him playfully, cackling. He leans down so he can capture your lips in a searing kiss. Oh, God. Yeah – he’s being serious. He breaks the kiss and puts you down on the couch lightly so that you’re sitting up and he drops to his knees before you.

“I think we should celebrate, baby.” He slides his hands up under your tiny silk dress, causing the fabric to gather at the tops of your thighs. “Ah, fuck you’re gorgeous.” He runs his fingers across your legs, leaving goose bumps peppering your skin. He peaks beneath your dress to see cute striped panties underneath. A hunger sparks in his eyes – his shark-toothed grin is ravenous, roguish.

He spreads your legs and scoots himself in between them, leaning forward to press a kiss against your clothed pussy. He brings up his hand and runs it across your panties, lightly circling your clit before tracing down, down, down.

“You getting’ wet for me, babe?” He whispers hoarsely, not taking his eyes off of your panties.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You tease. You’re rewarded with a light pinch to your clit that causes you to yelp in surprise. “Kiri!” He chuckles, using his fingers to move the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room.

“So wet for me, sweet heart.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss your palm. He takes your forefinger and brings it to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. He then moves your hand to your pussy and encourages you to pleasure yourself. “Show me how my baby likes it.”

You moan as you touch yourself, playing with your clit and dipping your fingers shallowly at the entrance of your pussy. Eijiro gets to his feet and takes off his hero costume, dropping his pants and underwear to the ground and freeing his hardening cock.

“You’re putting on quite a show, baby.” He says, leaning forward to slip the dress’s spaghetti straps off your shoulders. “Now show me those pretty tits.” He pushes the fabric of the dress down, exposing your chest. Your nipples perk up the instant the air hits them. He pinches your nipples lightly and then kneads your breasts a bit, one in each hand. The dress is now scrunched across your middle, most of you exposed to Kirishima’s greedy eyes. He takes a step back so that he can begin to stroke his cock as he watches you go to work on your pussy. You bite your lip and look away, almost embarrassed at the intensity of his gaze.

“You warmed up a little, baby?” He asks, leaning forward to plant his arms against the couch with you wedged helplessly in between. He kisses you again, roughly, before peppering kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. He stops to take one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you cry out from the pleasure of it.

“Eij!”

He brings his body forward, guiding his cock towards your waiting pussy. You gasp as he smooths his thick member across your delicate, dripping entrance. “You make the prettiest sounds.” He coos, continuing to flex his hips to that you feel his length move against you.

You think he’s about to push inside when he pauses, his cockhead twitching against your entrance delightfully. “Can we do it now, though? Will it hurt the baby?” He says, concern tinting his husky voice.

“I did some research – yeah, we’re fine. Keep going.” You groan out, scooting your hips forward and trying to coax him inside.

“So impatient for me to cum inside you again, ain’t ya?” Eijiro taunts, rubbing his cock back and forth against your vulva. “You sure there’s room for one more in there?”

“God yes. Just fuck me already, Kiri!” You pout, straining to get closer to him.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says before easing into you. Despite your assurance that the baby would be fine, he still takes extra care as he slides into place. He pauses to let you adjust to his size, but after a moment or two you’re off to the races.

“Jeez, babe…I forgot how damn good it feels to fuck your pussy raw. I can feel you, so tight around me. Fuckkkk.” He takes it slow, shifting his hips softly so that you can feel every inch of his hard cock as it slips and slides within you. You relax into it, your cunt stretching to slowly to accommodate his size. After all these years together, you know each other so well that fucking feels like bliss. You can just relax into it and let him take the lead.

After a few moments of gentle fucking to let you get comfortable, he makes sure you have a secure hold on him. He scoops you up and, cock still lodged deep within you, he gets to his feet. This is one of the things you love about your big, himbo boyfriend – he’s strong enough to be able to fuck you in any position and he can lift you up with absolutely zero effort. His palms flatten under your ass cheeks so he can bounce you up and down and you mewl, leaning your face into his hard chest. Your legs are wrapped around his thick body. He’s so muscular and wide that you have trouble keeping steady. It feels so incredibly good to have him intertwined with you like this, you have to remind yourself to keep your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You like that baby?” He gasps between thrusts. “You like it when I stand and deliver?”

“Oh God yes. Keep on deliverin’.” You slur, enjoying every sensation. He chuckles and obliges, supporting all of your weight in his hands as he continues to move. After a few minutes of this, you can tell he’s getting close by the way he starts squeezing your ass and speaking nonsense.

“You’re my girl, you know that? My absolute number one perfect babe.” His breath hitches as his cock almost slides out completely but he manages to guide it back into you without incident.

“Sit down, Kiri. I wanna ride you.” You whine, kissing his sweat covered collarbone.

“Alright, babe. Whatever you want.” He turns and slowly brings you both down to the couch. You know he’s got a fuck ton of stamina from being a Pro Hero, but standing and fucking has definitely caused him to work up a sweat. You can see that he’s grateful to be back on the couch. He leans back and his back sinks into the comfy backrest of the sofa, and he brings his hands up from your ass to rest on your hips.

“Go on, baby.” He coaches. “Show me how good you are at riding this fat cock.”

You slide your legs down and settle so that you’re straddling him, and bring your hands low to rest on his strong, beefy chest. You lock eyes with him as you slowly raise your hips, bringing yourself up high enough so that his cock is barely inside of you. He watches you with eyes so full of love and attention that it almost takes your breath away. You circle your hips in the air, the head of his cock rolling around your folds before you slam back down on his member, sheathing him in one fowl swoop.

“Damn. Fuck. Y/N.” He throws his head back in ecstasy and grips your hips so hard you’re sure they’ll bruise. “Christ you treat me so well.”

You continue to ride him at a near brutal pace. His breaths become shallow as he chases his high, sure to burst at any moment.

“Fuck! Wait – hold on.” He squeezes your hips and you come to a stop, puzzled. He bites his lip as he glances down between you at your stomach. “I wanna make this last. We’re celebrating, after all.”

You grin. “What do you have in mind, Eij?”

“Climb off of me and come sit on my face. Let me eat you out for a while.” He smiles at you, reaching out with his thumb to smooth a bead of sweat off your brow.

“You sure?

“The way I see it, once the baby starts growing it might get harder for you to climb on top of me. So let’s clock as much face fucking time for you as we can before that happens.” He says eagerly, taking a few moments to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“Eij…you’re such a sweetie pie.” You tweak his nose as you move to get off his dick. He watches you rise up off of his cock, and he moans a little at the loss of contact as he slides out of your pussy.

“Don’t worry.” You say, kissing him on the cheek. “You’ll be back in there before you know it.”

He smiles as he helps you to your feet. “I know, its just feels so damn good to be inside you without a condom, anytime I have to pull out its torture. I keep forgetting that we can do this all the time now.” He lays down across the couch and gets comfortable, placing a pillow beneath his shoulder blades. “Alright, sweetheart. Come up and take a seat.”

Your clit absolutely throbs in anticipation as you climb up on top of him, straddling his face in a position that’s become so familiar. He wraps his arms around your legs and guides you down, swiping his tongue across your pussy with practiced skill.

“Oh, God, Kiri…” You groan, relaxing into it. He drags his tongue across your clit and down to your core, gripping your legs tightly to hold you in place as he takes you apart one lick at a time. You grind your hips back and forth lightly, shimmying against him in a move that probably looks more silly than pornographic. You don’t care, though – it gets the job done. You let him bring you to the brink of orgasm with his mouth alone, gasping as he sucks on your sensitive clit for what feels like hours. When your legs start to shake, it’s a surefire sign that you’re about to tip over the edge.

“Babeee.” You whine as you get close. “Wanna cum on your cock.”

Eijiro stops what he’s doing and says in a muffled voice “You’re so impatient, sweetheart.” You grind against his face in reply, and he laughs. He helps you climb off of him, your legs still shaky and uncoordinated.

You let yourself rest for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths. You look up at your hero - his gelled up hair is now disheveled and out of place. He’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling at you. “Eating you out is one of my favorite hobbies, babe.”

You giggle. “Is it nice to be having sex while everyone else is at work?” You ask, laughing as he easily flips you over onto your belly.

“It is a nice break from a stressful job, yeah.” Eijiro gets behind you, finally pulling the dress down and off your body so that it’s no longer hiked up in a heap around your middle. He lays it delicately on the back of the couch. “Can’t have anything happening to my favorite outfit.” He explains as he smooths out the fabric.

He puts a large hand on your back and slides it up towards your shoulder blades, adding some slight pressure to encourage you to get down on your elbows. He hauls your ass up towards him and settles himself behind you.

“You ready?” He asks, sliding his cock along your folds, using his split and your slick as lube.

“Y-yeah.” You breathe out, body buzzing with anticipation. “Go for it.”

He glides back into you, doggy style. This is your favorite position, as it allows his big cock to hit just the right spot deep inside you. Once again, Eijiro takes it slow. He braces one hand on your hips, the other on your stomach. He spreads his fingers wide against your belly, protective. You know he’s distracted – half of his thoughts are no doubt on the baby and all that it means for the two of you.

He makes love to you like this for quite a while - enjoying the feel of your bare pussy around his cock, reveling in every sigh and moan he can goad from your pretty mouth.

“Kiriii.” You whine, fed up with this slow and easy pace. “Faster, baby.”

He smirks down at you, releasing your hip for a moment so he can deliver a light smack to your ass. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you with practiced skill. He maneuvers his hips in a way that allows him to go deep, concentrating all of his energy on one singular point. When the tip of his cock hits your cervix, you splutter out endless praise.

“Fuck, yes Eij. Fuck fuck fuck, keep going.”

And he does – he hits the same delicious spot over and over and over. You’re overwhelmed with the pleasure of it all, tears coming to your eyes as you feel heat start to pool in your belly. Your legs are shaking beneath you, and you know that the only reason you’re still able to stay in this position is because Kirishima’s strong arms are holding you in place.

“You wanna cum for me, sweetheart?” Eijiro hisses between clenched teeth, concentrating on keeping his pace consistent as he pistons his dick into you. “You look so pretty when you’re all riled up and desperate for my cock like this.”

“Ah – Eij!” You cry out as your pussy flutters around him, you cum hard and fast. Stars dance behind your eyes as your body squeezes and tries to milk Eijiro’s cock.

“Woah – fuck  babe!” He cries out in surprise, not expecting such a forceful orgasm from you. Your pussy feels like absolute heaven around him, and the way your walls squeeze and pull at him causes him to lose himself. He cries out when he cums, ropes of hot, sticky sperm shooting deep inside you. If you weren’t already pregnant, this particular fucking certainly would have given you a run for your money.

“Fuck babe. I’m gonna fuck another baby into you.”  He’s groaning nonsense as he rides out his orgasm, head thrown back and hands gripping you desperately. The overstimulation of it all has you feeling full, complete.

With a few final pumps, he’s spent. He slowly pulls out of you, marveling at the gooey creampie he’s left in his wake.

“Babe…this is insanely hot.” He says, bringing a finger up to push his seed back inside of you. You groan at the contact, overstimulated from cumming so damn hard.

“Kiri stoppp, I need a minute.” You collapse into the couch, rolling over onto your back and shuddering as you try to catch your breath. Eijiro joins you, leaning back into the couch cushions and staring up at the ceiling in ecstasy.

“We should fuck like that all the time.” He says, eyes sliding closed with exhaustion. Between last night’s fight, today’s work, and this afternoon’s physical activity – he’s spent. “God, I love you.”

“Love you too, Eij.” You coo, you feel yourself slipping towards sleep.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet.” You feel the couch cushions rise up around you as Eijiro gets up and onto his feet. “We gotta clean you up first.”

You hear the floorboards creak as he pads his way back to your tiny bathroom. Distantly, you hear him turn the faucets of your tub as he starts to draw a bath. You let yourself drift off for a few moments, content with your lot in life. You’ve got the best boyfriend in the world, and now you get to have his child. What could be better? You doze.

You startle awake when you feel Eijiro lift you off the couch and into his arms. You rest your head against his bare chest and hear his heartbeat against the shell of your ear. The steady rhythm is music to your ears, and you snuggle into him as much as you can. You hear him chuckle as he carries you off towards the bathroom.

“Babe…I think that maybe we should think about telling the press about us. What with the baby and all…I want to keep you safe, but I don’t want people to think that I just knocked you up with a secret love child or something. Not very manly.” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “And as for the safety part…maybe I can train you up a bit, show you ways to use your quirk to defend yourself. I can’t always be around to protect you, but you’re strong. And I know you’re capable of protecting yourself.”

These words jolt you fully awake. “You mean that, Eijiro?” Then you add teasingly: “Being my Baby Daddy changed your mind?” Eijiro chuckles at this new title in a way that tells you he’s elated to be your “baby daddy.”

“Of course I mean it, babe. If anyone can figure all of this shit out, it’s the two of us. Ya know?”

“Yeah, I know.” You say, your brain whirring to process all that he’s said. “But I don’t mind keeping our private life private. This baby. This family – it’s ours, and no one else’s. Fuck what the public thinks.”

“I guess we have a lot to talk about.”  He says, finally coming to a stop in the steamy bathroom. “But we don’t need to figure it all out right this moment.”

You look up at his strong, handsome face and bring a hand up to trace his jawline.

“You’re so beautiful, Eij.” He blushes at the compliment, flustered. You know he loves being called things like “manly” and “handsome,” but he has a weak spot for softer compliments as well. Your himbo boyfriend loves to be admired softly, loves your gentle praise. “You’re so sweet and good to me.”

“Heh, does this mean that you’re gonna change your phone background back to a pic of me instead of John Wick?” Eijiro leans down to plant a kiss on your temple.

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, I guess. If it would make ya happy.”

“It would.” He kisses you again. “You ready for a bath, sweetheart? I can do most of the work if you’re too tired.” You nod at him, eyes half lidded. You’re so damn sleepy. You feel like you just had a whole body workout and then some.

Slowly, sweetly, Eijiro lowers you into the bathtub. He moves slowly, letting you get used to the water as you sink down into it. The temperature is perfect – not too cool, not too scathingly hot. Eijiro knows you so well, down to your perfect water temperature. Your bum hits the bottom of the tub and you sit up, surprised at the mountains of bubbles towering around your head.

“I got a little carried away with the bubble bath mix.” He says, cupping some of the frothy suds in his hands and blowing them across the bathroom. You look at him lovingly – he’s going to make such a good dad.

You look up at him, grinning. You blow some bubbles in his direction before gesturing for him to join you.

“Get in here, Eij. There’s plenty of room for a family of three.”

[ghosts-bandwagon]

I can feel myself getting sick! And I hit my head super hard today and I’ve had a crazy headache ever since! So here’s the 141 taking care of their sick idiot s/o!

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He heard it the moment you spoke for the first time that day, you sounded congested and nasally

He made you some tea and heated up some soup, you laughed and asked about occasion

You knew you were getting sick but you’re a stubborn bitch so that means that you’re not sick and everything is fine

He knows you so he just shrugs and asks what’s wrong with soup for breakfast

He lets you go about the day, only stepping in when he sees you’re getting fatigued, discreetly suggesting you two lay down and watch a movie in bed

You’re getting the snacks ready when you drop the unopened bag of popcorn, as you’re straightening up you slammed your head on the granite countertop

It was so loud, Simon sprinted across the living room to make sure you were ok

He looked at your head and made sure you weren’t bleeding, when he didn’t see any surface damage he rushed to the freezer and pressed an ice pack on the back of your head

It was a little embarrassing and it took a lot to resist the urge to cry, he saw how much you were laughing to and playing it up and knew you felt worse than you let on

He guided you to bed, ice pack still pressed o your head, he ushered you under the covers, checking to make sure you weren’t concussed

Simon brewed a fresh cup of tea with a generous amount of honey and a light squeeze of lemon

He put on the movie and had a handful of throat lozenges in his pocket at the ready, fingers running through your hair, checking in on you and monitoring your symptoms

He blames himself for not interfering sooner but hearing your small cough and feeling you nuzzle into his chest made him feel needed, it was nice taking care of you, and a refreshing new way of being relied on

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

You kinda have to tell him if you’re feeling unwell

Not to say he doesn’t notice it when he sees you a little more fatigued and glassy eyed than usual

But as soon as you tell him you’re throat’s hurting, he’s up and making you some tea, while it’s brewing, he’s getting some cold medicine together and queuing your favorite movie

While he’s doing that he hears a loud ‘thunk’ and immediately runs over to check on you, he sees the cabinet door open and he sees you bent over and cradling your head

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out but he immediately shuts his mouth the moment he catches your glare

He fishes in the freezer for the ice pack and presses it against your head, he sends you to lay down on the couch but he catches you wobbling as you’re walking

He was at your side in a second, he hurried back to the kitchen and got some water for you

He sat beside you and rubbed your back, careful of his volume and careful not to move you too much

Needless to say, you didn’t lift a finger the rest of the day

John Price:

Like Ghost, he heard it in your voice when you first said ‘good morning’

Except he was more adamant on catching it sooner rather than later, he made you some Theraflu and didn’t move an inch until you finished it

If he heard you cough throughout the day, he’d magically appear with a cough drop ready for you to eat

Your water bottle doesn’t have a chance to be empty, same thing with your tea cup, it always managed to stay filled

You were loading up the laundry machine when you smacked your head hard against the rim, it was so loud John was at your side in a heartbeat

He cradled your head and checked your scalp for a cut or any blood, when he didn’t see any he gently applied pressure and walked you both to the kitchen where he grabbed the ice pack

He guided you to the bedroom where he instructed you to sit on the bed, he noticed your walking was a little uneven and all his training came to him in a split second

He walked you to the bed and knelt down in front of you, asked you to follow his fingers, took out his phone and turned on his flashlight, checking your pupils and asking you to follow it

He held the ice pack firmly against your head and ran down the list of symptoms, asking you and making sure you were ok

He didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day unfortunately for your partially loaded laundry

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

You told him that morning that you were feeling congested and he went to pharmacy as soon as you mentioned it

When he came back, he saw you doubled over and clutching your head, he sets the bags down and hurried to your side

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asked, you explained that you dropped your phone under the table and didn’t realize how close you were to it when you hit your head on the edge

“Babe if you missed me that much, you could’ve called, I would’ve come back sooner.” He teased, you punched him in the arm as hard as you could,

When your punch was lighter than usual, he got worried and had you sit down on the couch

He handed you the bag full of snacks and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade for you to slowly drink

While you were doing that he went to the kitchen to grab an ice pack and wrap a towel around it

He sat beside you and handed it to you to press to the area, in the meantime he opened a package of cough lozenges and handed you one

He got up and started making your favorite ramen flavor and brewing a cup of lemon ginger tea with a generous helping of honey

He sat beside you and held the ice pack against your head while you ate, he turned the tv on to your favorite show and kissed your head and your cheek

He made sure all your needs were tended to for the day and spoiled you rotten

[charliemwrites]

So I re-read Mister(s) steal your girls while waiting patiently, I can't wait for Brandon and Lucy (I think that's her name? ) to get what's coming to them. Like Lucy is stuck with a man who does the bare minimum while girl is literally thriving with not one but 4 men who literally worship the ground she walks on.

Honestly, I hope that she tries to hit on the 141 and Simon just tears her apart from her appearance to who she is as a person and he hits way below the belt. Sorry, I am projecting lol

Lucy is gonna look like she sucked a lemon when she realizes how good reader has it. And of course she’s going to go tattling to Brandon and accidentally sabotage herself in the process 🤭

Simon is a decent guy and won’t be making any sexist comments or reading her to filth (too much) but he certainly is going to puncture her ego quite a bit (him… and Johnny… and John… and especially Kyle)

But it’s absolutely okay to project, dear, we all do it around here 🥰

[redbird-tf]

Chamomile tea 

Dean winchester x (hunter ) sister reader

Summary: being alone for so long you’ve gotten used to only relying on yourself, a mindset that Dean starts to chip away at. 

Word count: 740

Notes: being creative is hard

Warnings: none

You sniffled, reaching across the table for a new tissue. You blew hard before discarding it in the bin with the dozen others.“Fever not letting up?” You jumped at Dean's voice, You weren't quite accustomed to having company around yet. The three of you were still navigating this new dynamic, which was proving easier for some than others. Just a few months ago Sam and Dean were the dynamic hunter duo, while you still navigated the world solo. You could still vividly recall the moment when John had announced the secret he had buried for years, the secret forced out because of a hunt.

——————

You remembered the look of shock that overtook everyone’s face and the screaming match that ensued between Sam and John. You could recall standing silently in the corner, feeling Dean gaze upon you from ten feet away. Once the job was done and John disappeared again you expected life to go back to normal, you couldn’t have anticipated the brothers to take you under their wing. “Family looks out for each other” Sam had stated to you, a mentality that you would come to learn.

What you hadn’t seen that night was the quiet devastation Dean had unleashed. He couldn’t pick a fight with John like Sam could, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as angry. His entire life he’d been forced into the role of a guardian for his little brother, and now to find out he had a sister—who had been alone in this life—turned that protective instinct into a fierce storm of emotions. The guilt of failing as brother was sallowing him whole and the rage towards John for keeping the truth from him boiled over. Least to say When they checked out, the motel room bore the scars of his turmoil.

——————-

“I'm fine” you stated blankly in response, your attention turning back to the lore book in your lap. You weren’t purposely being stubborn, to you it was true. You had gotten sick before and you'd get over it, no big deal. Dean didn't respond and carried on with his business in the kitchen. The sound of pouring liquid reached your ears, but it didn’t smell like his usual coffee so you assumed he was having a drink. Hearing what sounded like a spoon hitting the side of a ceramic mug you raised your head in confusion. Unfortunately, his back was turned to you, blocking your view of what he was conjuring up.

When he started to turn around, your eyes darted back to your book only looking up when hearing the soft clink of a mug being placed in front of you. You watched the steam rise, a sweet and sour aroma filling the air. “Is that chamomile tea?” A softer voice chimed in as Sam entered the room. “Not for you,” Dean stated firmly, taking a seat across from you. You stared at the drink “What is it?” You asked raising an eyebrow. “Tea, honey for a sore throat, and some lemon for the headaches” Dean explained leaning back in his chair. “Thats pure witchcraft right there, can fix anything!” Sam exclaimed pointing at the mug. “Drink up sis” sam encouraged, brushing his hand over your shoulder on his way to the door.

“You didn't have to do that,” you said softly to Dean. “I used to make them all the time for Sam, it's no big deal,” Dean reassured you. You fidgetedwith the edge of a page. “I'm not dying Dean.” Your tone came off defensive causing Dean to sit up straight. “You don't have to be dying, for someone to make you a cup of tea kiddo” his words prompted you to lift your head to meet his gaze. “I didn't mean…” your words trailed off, unable to defend your previous statement. “I'm your big brother, it's my job to look out for you.” He said with a stern tone. You could only stare at him in silence trying to comprehend his words. “I know it hasn't always been like that, but it is now. I've been a big brother for a long time and Sam’s still learning. i know you are too—just…” he took a deep breath “Let me do this for you, ok?” You nodded silently, noticing how his softened eyes contrasted with the weight of his words.

Without knowing what to say, you lifted the mug to your lips. The warmth of the citrus tea seeped into your chest, and you felt your tense muscles start to relax much like the protective wall you’ve built beginning to chip away. You gently placed the mug down, catching a glimpse of the small smile on Dean's face. “Thank you, Dean” you responded with a smile of your own. He didn’t respond with words instead, he stood up from the table, patting you on the shoulder as he passed by. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself when looking down at the mug in front of you.

———————-

[starnana7]

every time I remember that the hit show supernatural made God, the literal God from the Bible, canonically bisexual but couldn’t do the same with a random guy who hunts monsters it actually makes me feel physically ill.. like blasphemy is okay but we draw the line at making the main character a little bit queer because it would “upset the heterosexuals men”? okay ig… and it’s so funny to me that they tried SO bad to make dean like really really straight and macho and a manly womanizer (I mean dude has literal porn brain and is obsessed with cars and is a film nerd) And still is the number 1 bissexual boy.. I mean no one that into cowboys is 100% straight 🙄 and if they actually wanted him to be that much of a cishet guy WHY would they make him have a codependent homosexual friendship with his best friend for more than a decade ?? and we have so much subtext to corroborates it that it’s actually insane.

and it’s also rlly funny to me that sam would be the most obvious choice for a queer storyline. like i’m not sure this is true but i heard somewhere that he actually was supposed to like be lgbt and that it’s implied in the show he’s pan bc he basically have sex w/ everyone and doesn’t care (like monsters and stuff). i wholeheartedly disagree bc sure he hited a demon and a werewolf and a kitsune and God knows what more But it still were just women and for me he’s still just straight 💀 we do have gabriel however and i would say that’s a valid argument but i don’t actually like them together because of the whole torturing-sam-every-tuesday-over-and-over-again but it’s still a good take ig. again this is just my opinion But anyways doesn’t matter my point Is that sam always felt like a freak and wanted to be normal and like was more open minded and “less-macho-toxic-behavior” than dean. he was a theater kid and talked about his feelings and all. STILL THO dean went and become The bissexual icon (Not Sam, Dean!!). and the fact that he was more manly actually only emphasized to his sexuality (and him being closeted) and sam being the straight one, and bare with me here. as sam winchester once wisely said “well you are kind of butch they probably think you're compinsating.” (to dean asking why people always assumed they were gay) and like this is so true, sam always felt comfortable in himself and like his nerdier and less cool strong man personality. But dean, oh, dean, no, no, no. and it could all be linked to john. we know how much dean wanted to gain his father approval and respect, all he ever wanted was for john to be proud of him. so he’d listen to the same music as john, same clothes… and so on. but when we really see a glance of him, we realize he’s actually much more “““girly””” (sorry for the term i lacked a better one) than he shows, Especially when compared to sam—who’s supposed to be the more girly one (again sorry for the term lol) or whatever. dean canonically likes taylor swift, chick flick films, actually liked when a woman made him wear underwear, the bailarinas shoe were “speaking to him” in that one ep of cursed objects, and so on. and every time he makes fun of sam for doing something not-manly-enough (like drinking lemon water or drinking from tiny coups) he eventually goes and do the same thing 😭 and i’m 100% sure that the writers just thought “haha funny scene this really straight deadly man does something not so convencional/more feminine(?) haha comedy relief time!!” but it actually just made him have a whole perfect queer background developed in the series. specially with the fact that He Does Overcompensate. why is he always flirting with women, why is he so butch and scary, always talking about straight sex and so on? because he’s really just deep in the closet. and it makes so much sense with john being his father, with him having to hunt two lesbians nuns in his 17 bday, always having to be strong and macho and cool and perfect—and therefore straight. even without cas, dean really does immaculate the bissexual experience and i’m so sorry but this is just true.

and now pointing to the subtext that i mentioned in the first paragraph (lol i can’t believe i’m making a whole rant as to why dean winchester is a confirmed bisexual), that whole confession to that priest where he says he wants experience new feelings, new people, FOR THE FIRST TIME. that always that the show mentioned a gay couple it ALWAYS focused on dean—not sam, DEAN. the gay hunters, the gay couple on the bar that the cupid “made”, the two cosplayers partners… the fact that every time that dean liked something it was borderline fangirl (gay) obsessive (the dr. sexy episode, that wrestler fighter). he Had a gay thing—and was all flustered about it. he flirted with a guy throughout charlie. THE MALE SIREN. the male siren like after that ep i was 100% convinced that man was not straight. he had a hot demon sumer with crowley?!!! and it’s so funny to me that not one of these things involves castiel, so if they really wanted to make dean be that straight why would they do that?? and only to dean, not even once to sam. Like. and not to mention all the homoeretic tension with benny??? sam never had a male best friend like that.. all of that and i didn’t even entered on destiel. Because this then really just confirms that he is Not straight. even if he wasn’t In Love with cas, they had something going on and the fact that if cas was a girl it would 100% be canon and filmed and Everyone would ship—and I really mean everyone—it just makes me go fucking insane. they could’ve had it all. the fanfic episodes, the parallels between dean and cas and “real couples”, ruby and cas duality and the fact that sam indeed had a relationship w/ her. Anyway i’m a # bi dean truth believer and i know this bc same boy # happy pride month to my fav bissexual boy in the whole world

also to anyone that says that “destiel” was unrequited love yes it kinda of was but only bc dean was so deep in the closet, he did love cas. he was indeed a bissexual man. i’ll die on that hill.

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Right here? Right now? | Jack Hughes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! Language, breeding kinks, unprotected, alcohol.

Summary: Jack has this incredible idea to have some extra fun at Jesper’s house at a party.

A:N- idk if this has been done, but I thought it was fun!!! Lmk if you’ve seen something similar (sorry)

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Today is December 31, New Year’s Eve. Jesper decided to throw a party to celebrate with the team. Some of us couldn’t make it, but we did party all night. Most of the couples came, and Nico, Luke, and John came as solos.

“We should hit body shots!” Nico insists, obviously I back away from the conversation. I’m wearing a red lacy thong underneath my black leggings, I have a matching bralette lying in between my skin and Jack’s grey navy hoodie. Not to mention the fact I’m like the most insecure person on the room.

I step back into the couch that sits in Nicole’s and Bratter’s living room. I lay on my back lying flat across a piece of the white couch. “You gonna try?” John walks over to me. He sets his cup of beer onto the coffee table in the middle of the sitting area. He scooches over to me and lets me rest my head on his lap.

“No. I’m really tired.” I announce as I rest my hands and let John play with my hair. “You coming baby?” Jack walks over to us.

“no. I’m exhausted from our day today.” I responded to jacks question.

John and I have known eachother from our days in Pittsburg. I’ve followed him down to Jersey, he’s like a brother to me.

~

If he hurts you, y/n, I’ll make sure he’ll know not to do it again.

~

I mean that’s what John said the first time I told him that Jack and I are going out.

“Please! I want to body shot. I don’t what to do it with Nico, or Luke. Sure as hell not John.” Jack says as he points around the kitchen towards the guys. John picks my head up and walks over to the group of boys.

“Now it’s just you and me.” Jack whined. “You can say it. Just tell me if you don’t want to do it. Just letting you know, it’s gonna look wierd if we don’t do it.” Jack jolts at me. I sit up letting his head resting on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around his back and I lift my legs to cross them over his legs.

I kiss jacks cheek, “well if it makes you happy, I can get up there and do it.” I let go of jacks body and start over to the counter.

I hope ontop of the cold granite and lay flat on my back. Jack walks over and pushes through the crowd and rolls down my leggings. He reveals my belly button and he sets a small lemon ontop of my belly, he pushed my top up until you can see my bra.

Luke hands him a bag of leftover crushed jolly rancher mixed with sour patch kids smashed together. Jack sprinkled a little bit in between my breast. My cleavage slips jacks fingers inside letting him spread a bit. He sets a fireball in my mouth and he backs up, looking at his masterpiece from afar.

The party goes silent as people turn down the music and record. “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5-“

The count down starts for the new year! Jack walks up to me. He rolls his sleeves up from his own hoodie and sets his hat down. “-3-2-“

Jack takes the small lemon from my bellybutton and squeezes it into his mouth. He licks my abdomen from any crumbs that spilt on my torso. His warm wet tounge slips between my breasts and he takes all of the candy onto his tounge. The sourness hits him as he clings to me shoulder. With no hands, Jack takes the fireball from my mouth and takes the shot into his own.

He grabs me to pull me up. He walks over to where he set his beer last. He sips on his cooled drink and hands it to Nico.

“Yeah, goodluck trying tonight! She’s not letting you get anywhere near her. Especially at Bratters house.” Nico chirps at Jack. Jack smiles and walks away.

“I know, and I still am gonna try.” Jack holds his eye contact on my boobs as I pull down my hoodie from our fun event.

I laugh out, maybe I should let him try to buy me in. “Okay, go ahead.” I say and I hold jacks chin, and pull his mouth to my ear letting him whisper into me. He kisses my check before starting.

“I got like really- like really hard, I’m horny- I’m like REALLY , really turned on. Y/n please. Don’t make me beg.” Jack holds my left ass check in his right hand and he holds my back- right under my shoulder blades with his left hand.

He swaddles me in his hold for a minute as he prances around the room. We dance to the music, “it’s a new year anyway, we can celebrate!” Jack convinces me. He slides his right hand into my leggings discreetly and he pulls at my thong. He lets go as he lets it slap into my skin.

“Baby, I can’t wait any longer.” Jack pulls away from our hug that lasted like five-ish minutes. He runs towards Jesper.

“hey, um- I’m gonna need that guest room okay? And don’t let other people walk in, me and y/n are going through it. She’s really tired and I wanna stay so keep the music loud enough where you can’t hear us aguribg.” Jack sets our story up. Knowing Jesper, he already knows that Jack is trying to get in my pants. Jack walks around with his dick pressing against his pants whenever he sees me.

I whisper in his ear before he runs away with me, “seriously? Right here?” I judge him, he doesn’t care.

He takes my hand and runs into the room Jesper sets up for the party people- well Jack requested one, he always does this.

~

Jack throws me onto the bed, “legs.” He commands, I’m the only WAG that’s not wearing a sexy dress. I don’t need to impress anyone, Jack is the only one who’s seen me, and will probably be getting it.

I slides off my leggings and let him take off the rest of my clothes. He leaves my bra on, he takes my legs and sets them up. He moves my thing to the side. I’m already really wet.

“Wow, either you peed, or you really are horny.” Jack devilishly looks up from my pussy.

“No, you’re the one who’s horny, I just got off of my period.” I correct him. He’s never right, and I’m never wrong. “Fine, so that means your ovulating? Right?” Jack giggles as he stuffs a finger into my hole. He gets up licks his finger and locks the door.

He comes back and I’m already dry.

“You took to long.” I angrily reply to Jacks confused face. Jack jumps down onto his knees as I scorch up to the head of the bed. I hid a pillow between the wall and the headboard. I open my legs and throw off my underwear.

I unclip my bra and Jack tears it off my chest. He beds me down, my ass in his face, he lays down on his back as I sit ontop of this face. He moans as he takes me in. I start to jump on him. I feel like I’m going to cum, so I get up from him sucking inside of me, the suction form his mouth and my pussy breaks and I turn around.

Climbing into Jack, I face his hard dick, and he faces my very wet cunt again. “Again?” Jack gets annoyed. “Yes, you’re getting special treatment as well.” I pull onto his dick.

I play with his balls bad start taking his tip into my mouth. He lifts his hips up, the bdeige of his back lifted, my naked body lying on his bare skin. He licks my pussy out, cleaning every droplet of cum, and creating more. I do the same, except jack dumps everything at the same time.

“Excited, hey?” I tease him, Jack hits his nose into my bud. I realse more than ever and white juice spill onto jacks face. I get up finishing Jack.

~jacks pov~

Liftibg my hips, my shaft still in her mouth I thrust my dick into her throat, almost feeling her tonsils. I feel her tounge massaging every bit of my skin. My tip almost reaching to her stomach at this point I cum. I can feel her swallowing, impressive.

I pull a special on her as I hide my nose into her pussy, what a slut, a slut only for me.

She arrives and finishes on my face, dumping every ounce of fluid onto my face. I make her lick me clean and I lick her creases dry, leaving her actual holes wet, awaiting for her king to touch her.

“Baby, you can take it can’t you?” I ask her, out of breath already I stand up, I push her down onto her back, in missionary I fall into her. Spreading her legs I grab one and throw it over my shoulder.

Grabbing an extra pillow, I fold it stuffing it under her hips, allowing me to hit her G-Spot. She moan out, the music draining all of her cry’s. She ccleched her pussy onto my dick, closing all of the possible gaps. No air is filling her holes, noting but our cums bonding together, and my cock filling her vagina.

~ur pov~

He stuffs every inch of his cock into me. Jack talks me through it:

“Breathe for me.”

“Come for me, I can’t keep hitting you.”

“You’ve taken it before.”

“You’re such as little whore.”

“Slut”

“I love you.”

“You feel so good”

“You so tight.”

*moaning*

Jack is a horny person, and that’s his personality, I love him for it. He grips I to me and finally finishes his love for me. He pulls out belong up with the inside of his hoodie.

He slides his clothes back on and helps me up, he clings to my side as we head back to the party. My hair is frizzy, the perfect curls that I trwiled in a hot tool for hours are ruined, my shirt is crinkled. My makeup is messy, and I have red bits makes everywhere. Jack just seems out of breathe. But he’s a pretty boy, and he’ll get anything he wants.

We pretend like nothing happened. The party ended when John decided to body shot on Nico- not licking his abs, or taking the shot class for his mouth but performing a dance for us and eating a lemon with eachother. I drove John home and made sure he got to bed alright, by the time we got home Jack was sleeping and Luke had to help me carrru him in the house.

I guess there is no part two to our fun tonight.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

One For The Road | Price x Reader

I posted this almost 2 years ago but while working on my masterpost I couldn't find it so enjoy a repost.

Fresh out of a breakup she meets a handsome friend of a friend at a party and decides to let him take her home

Tags: spit kink, oral sex, Price taking reader home, 3rd person reader

“You meet anyone yet?” Lucy asked, sliding up next to her as she made her second drink of the night. It was Lucy and her boyfriend Adam’s party. Average university affair. There were a couple new faces though. 

“No, and I don’t plan on it.” She sighed, popping a cherry in her mouth before dropping another into her drink

“Oh come on. He invited his friend Kyle from secondary and he brought two friends. They’re all hot, even the old one.” Lucy nudged her elbow till she looked over at the four men. She’d met Kyle before, very briefly right when Lucy had started dating Adam. He was still cute. There was a man next to him, also hot but the Mohawk ruined it. Then there was ‘the old one’.

He wasn’t old, just older than everyone else. He was late 30s or early 40s at most. Handsome with a thick beard. A navy blue sweater showed off his arms nicely. He was tall but not in a break-your-neck way. He had a glass with some amber liquor in it. He noticed her staring and gave a sly smile, raising his glass to her. 

She looked away quickly, blushing. 

“Oh, you dirty girl,” Lucy laughed, watching the whole interaction. “You always were weak in the knees for an older guy.”

“Oh shut it. He’s handsome.”

“He’s military. They all are.”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah. Kyle is SAS.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Kyle laughed as both girls jumped. He stepped in between them to grab more dip for his plate. “Noticed the two of you staring.”

“You’re all so handsome, how could we not?” Lucy was always smoother than her. “Who’s the one with the beard?”

“Lucy!” She hit her friend in the arm. She wasn’t looking for a hookup that night that’s what she always told herself. Lucy was a persistent one. ‘You just need to get laid once and you’ll be back to the normal you.’

“That’s John Price,” Kyle snaked an arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. “He sent me over here to fetch the two of you.”

“You’re fucking around.” She said, unamused. 

“Swear I’m not. Come on.” He wrapped his other arm around Lucy’s shoulder and escorted the two women over to the rest of the group. Introductions went around. Mohawk was Scottish and also named John. 

“Must be confusing.”

“Not really. I’m his superior so I’m the only one giving orders.” His eyes lingered over the edge of her skirt before moving up to her face. 

“I’m also cuter than ‘em.” The Scot interjected. Everyone chuckled. Adam had his arm around Lucy, leaving her to the greedy eyes of the three men. Kyle kept hip bumping her closer to the Captain. Scottish John kept trying to flirt but she wasn’t interested. Not her type, exactly.

Older John kept whispering quick comments and jokes in her ear.  The conversation slowly died as Scottish John left to go flirt with a more interested participant. Kyle, Adam, and Lucy eventually broke away as well. Leaving just the two of them. 

“What’re you drinking?” He asked, having to tilt his head down to reach her ear. She could smell a mix of tobacco and the ashes of a bonfire. He smelled like a good time. 

“Vodka sour without the foam.”

“So Vodka with lemon juice?” He teased.

“There’s bitters and a cherry.” She held up her glass so he could see. He shook his head.

“Try this.” He held up his glass to her. She took it and smelled it.

“This is just scotch.”

“You don’t need anything else.” He took her drink from her. “Try it. It’s the good stuff.”

She did. A quick sip. It filled her throat like smoke and went down with a sweet burn. She was a mixed-drink person. 

“Tastes like scotch.” She handed him his drink back and reclaimed hers. 

“Would hope so.” He was close to her now, his hand just lightly brushing against her thigh, just beneath her skirt hem. Flirting was fine. She could flirt. She was at a party, it was expected. She took another sip from her drink and pulled the cherry out. He stared at her mouth as she popped it in her mouth. Maybe it was the liquor and the dim lights and bonfire smell. She tied the stem in a knot and slowly opened her mouth to show him. 

It wasn’t a growl, it was a rumbling that started deep in his chest. It was what she wanted to hear. A confirmation that he wanted her. 

“Neat trick.” His lips brushed against her ear. “What else can that mouth do?” 

She placed a hand on the back of his neck, leaning up to whisper back to him. 

“Smoke.” She smirked, letting go of him. She moved away quickly. She could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. She had to head down and out, grabbing her jacket on the way. 

Cigarettes in the left pocket, lighter in the right pocket. Wait… no lighter in the right pocket. Fuck, she’d given it to Lucy earlier to light candles. She sighed, cigarette already in her mouth. 

“Need a light?” He was standing by the door to the building, lighter in hand. It wasn’t the cheap petrol station kind but a nice metal one. The kind you keep, a borderline heirloom. 

“Just this once.” He chuckled and met her on the sidewalk. He cupped a hand near her face as he lit it for her. She offered him a cigarette from her pack and he shook his head.

“You don’t smoke?”

“Cigars, only.” He’d put on a coat of his own, an older Barbour waxed jacket. It was a dark greyish blue, not zipped. 

“Oh, you are old,” She laughed.

“Don’t get cheeky,” He warned. He already thought he was in charge, she’d have to knock him down a bit.

“You going to do something if I do?”

“You’ll see when I take you home.” Forward. Maybe a bit too much.

“You’re taking me home?” She raised an eyebrow, blowing smoke up at him. 

“We can go to yours if you prefer or my car is just around the corner.” 

“Don’t think my roommates would appreciate it.”

“And I can’t get a ticket for public nudity. So my place it is.” He smiled, satisfied with himself.

“You’re very confident about this.” She was going to make him fight for it. 

“Have to be, love.” His hand was resting on her hip, his thumb moving back and forth. “Have to be able to read people.”

“And you’re reading that I want to sleep with you?” 

“Do you not?”

“Didn’t say that. I just wasn’t planning on going home with someone tonight.”

“Plans can change.” His other hand mirrored the first and he pulled her in close. “I can promise you won’t be disappointed.” 

Maybe he’d earned it. He wasn’t creepy or overbearing. Very charming and if it was weird she’d never have to see him again. She was only at the party for Lucy and Lucy had only invited her to get her laid. Three months without getting laid seemed much longer now that his hands were on her hips. 

“Well, if you promise,” she tried to act like she was still weighing her options. 

“I do promise.” His teeth grazed her earlobe, just below her earring. “You weren’t having fun in there anyway. I saw you before you saw me.”

A shiver ran up her spine. He’d been watching her. She didn’t even notice, too busy hiding in the kitchen. 

“I need to grab my things,” She let out one last drag and slipped away from him. “I’ll be right back.” 

She stamped out her cigarette and took the butt inside. Scottish John was in the stairwell, mouth attached to one of Lucy’s other friends. They were both too preoccupied to notice her as she continued up the stairs. 

“I was just looking for you,” Lucy said, pulling her aside. “You missed your chance. I think John left. The older one.”

The door opened again and he walked back in. Lucy looked at her and back to him and then back at her, a huge grin forming on her face.

“Oh, you slag.” She giggled. “You going home with him?”

“I am if you let go of my arm.” She pulled away from her friend’s grasp.

“Text me tomorrow, okay? Let me know how he is.” Lucy was grinning like the devil, having completed her mission. She rolled her eyes and walked away.

“I just need to get my purse,” She said to him quickly.

“I’m just getting a drink for the road.” She raised her eyebrow at him. 

“Think you’d know better than that.”

“It’s not for me, love.” He quickly drew his finger down her jaw and over her lips. He was getting lustful, she could see in the dark of his eyes. He definitely wouldn’t disappoint.

She met him again by the door. He wordlessly opened it and led her outside the flat. As soon as the door clicked, he pressed her against the wall. He held one hand on the back of her neck, tilting her head backward. With his other, he pressed his thumb against her lower lip opening her mouth. He leaned in quickly and spit a shot’s worth of scotch into her mouth. His hand covered her mouth, holding her tight between his palms.

“Swallow, cheeky girl.” He smirked as she did. He removed his hands and gave her a quick kiss before taking her hand and leading her down the stairs.

The lovebirds were still there, hands were under shirts now. They would be naked soon if they didn’t stop. 

“Be a gentleman, MacTavish.” John warned as they passed. The couple broke. Red lipstick was smeared against the scot’s face. He raised an eyebrow at her, a silent ‘you too?’.

“Yes, Sir.” He said before turning back to whisper to his one-night lover. 

He was wordless and determined as he led her to his car. It was just around the corner and he opened the door for her. Black interior with matching leather seats. It still smelled new. 

His hand was on her thigh as he pulled out onto the street. It moved up and down her bare skin, just skimming the edge of her skirt. She inched forward in the seat so his fingers went just under the fabric.

He was chuckling under his breath. He went in for the kill. His fingers dived in between her thighs to rub against her panties. The scotch in the mouth had made her wet and he was about to find out how much.

He hummed in approval as he pressed against the fabric, teasing her entrance. 

“I’m going to fucking ruin you tonight.”

“So confident,” She was trying not to moan. She didn’t want to inflate his ego too early.

“When was your last time?”

“Nosy, aren’t you?”

“Just curious as to what I’m up against.” His thumb brushed over her clit and she sighed. 

“Three months..ish.”

“Ish?” He started to rub a circle around her clit, barely touching it. She ground herself against his knuckles and he tutted, giving a small slap against her. She yelped. “What’s ish?”

“It was before we broke up but I don’t remember exactly when.” Her voice got higher as he pressed a finger against her entrance. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll still give you my best.” She looked over and saw his growing hard on through his pants. She reached for him and was met with a quick slap to the wrist.

“I’m driving, love. Be a shame if you died in a strange man’s car.” He was teasing again. A gentle reminder that despite the later night’s activities they were just two people who’d only met a couple hours prior. 

His hand moved back to her thigh, pinching at the skin and slapping gently anytime she made too much noise. The ride was quick thankfully. 

He opened the door for her again, wrapping an arm around her waist as he took her inside. His hand drifted to her ass, grabbing a handful as the lift took them upstairs. 

“Sit on the couch,” He ordered as he shut the flat door behind them. He took her coat and purse and went to hang them in the closet. She did as she was told. He disappeared. She started rubbing her thighs together, grinding against the couch. He did a good job winding her up. 

The smell of cigar smoke came over her back in a wave. A firm calloused hand rested against her neck. 

“You’re gorgeous.” She could see his reflection in the tv, cigar in one hand. “Do you have any hard limits?”

“You’re going to be that rough already?” She didn’t mind a certain amount of roughness but as he reminded her earlier, they didn’t know each other.

“I can be gentle if you’d like. You just struck me as someone who likes more.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek. He took a drag from his cigar, the smoke drifted down around her like a halo. 

“I like a good in-between, at least at first.”

“At first? Do you already want to see me again?”

“Let’s see if you disappoint me or not,” She said.  He chuckled, coming around the couch.

“Hold this for me, love.” He handed her the cigar and got on his knees in front of her. His hands went up her skirt to grip the edge of her panties. “Did these cost much?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He ripped them in half in a quick motion. She gasped, almost dropping the cigar. 

“If you drop that, I’ll have to punish you.” He slapped her thigh and got a moan in response. “Maybe you’d like that though.”

He pushed her thighs apart and hiked her skirt up to her stomach. She was bare in front of him, exposed on his couch. 

He looked up at her and smirked before moving in. His beard rubbed against her thighs, and his teeth nipped and tugged as he made his way to her center. His hands slide under her ass and pulled her further down the couch. She held onto the cigar desperately. 

“You ever smoke one?” He breathed against her

“No,” she whined. 

“Don’t inhale, just keep it in your mouth. If you do it right and don’t waste, I’ll reward ya.” He rested his head against her thigh, looking up at her. She took a deep breath and held the cigar to her lips. She held the smoke in her mouth, letting the aroma around her, filling her with the same heat that he was breathing against her core. 

“Good girl,” He praised, as she puffed out the smoke. She was rewarded with his tongue gliding up her center, ending just below her clit. A soft moan escaped her lips from around the cigar. He reached up and took it from her. He took a puff and blew the smoke back up at her before setting it down on an ashtray on the coffee table. 

He wrapped an arm around her waist and laid a leg over his shoulder. He was an expert. His tongue explored every crevice and fold. He let her writhe against him. He pushed a finger inside of her, wasting no time before slowly fucking her with it. His beard tickled her thighs and he held her tighter any time she tried to move away from his mouth. He sucked on her clit as he added a second finger. Her hands gripped his hair, nails grazing his scalp. 

He used the hand around her waist to pull her almost entirely off the couch. He was relentless. His fingers curled till he found her sweet spot and his tongue circled her clit till her thighs shook. 

“Jh...John... I’m gonna.” She moaned. He pulled his head back and gave her a firm slap against her clit. She whimpered, looking at him with begging eyes. He was going to make this difficult, repayment for her earlier antics. 

“You’re not doing anything until I say you can, love.” He picked her up as he stood, wrapping her legs around his waist. He refused a kiss as he carried her to the bedroom. His beard was wet, lips shiny.  

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting her legs hang loose to straddle his lap. He pulled her shirt up and over her head. He buried his face in her chest, nipping hard at her skin. She whined, pushing away as he left hickeys over her breasts. He unclipped her bra in a swift motion and looped a finger around the center band pulling it down until it slipped completely from her shoulders.

He gave her a quick approving look before taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around her nipple. She hated how wet his look made her. She didn’t need approval of her body. She could have taken anyone from that party. She chose him, he should be thankful. He should be on his knees for her. 

Yet her back arched into his touch, begging for him to finish as he started. She could feel his cock through his pants, pressed against her bare cunt. He would grip her hip as a warning anytime she ground against him. She had no need for approval but god she wanted his. She wanted to hear him call her a good girl again. Wanted him to tell her how good she felt, she wanted to win. Win him over. Fuck him so good that he was the one trying to find her Instagram or hounding Gaz for her number. ‘I want to see you again’ she wanted to hear those words.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed. She licked his lips before he could stop her. Grinding against his cock. He groaned deep in his throat. His fingers dug into her hips, more markings for the next morning. He slapped her ass, firm and stinging. She yelped into his mouth. 

He flipped them. Pinning her underneath him, keeping her legs between his knees. He started taking off his sweater, throwing it aside with her bra. She ran a hand up his chest. He was built like a grizzly bear. Strong muscle under a layer of hair and fat. 

“Do you think you’re ready for me, girlie?” He pressed his hips against hers. He was big, even trapped under layers of fabric. His words sucked the air from her lungs and filled them with smoke. Intoxicating, lustful. She wanted him. She wanted him inside of her. She was still in knots from his edging. 

“Fuck me, John.” She was going to win. She wasn’t going to beg. She was going to order. 

He kissed her quickly, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth.

“Remember what I said earlier?”

“Don’t get cheeky?” She asked, tilting her head. He chuckled and slapped her ass before pressing his lips against her ear.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He growled. The sound of his belt coming undone made her squirm. He pulled in a swift movement and for a brief moment, she thought about how it would feel around her wrists. It hit the floor with a thud. “Look at me, girlie.”

He sat up, towering over her. She watched his hands as he undid his zipper and button, pulling his trousers down to his thighs. She gulped seeing the outline of his cock through his pants. 

“I asked you if you were ready.” He took her wrist and placed her palm against him, using her to get himself off. He bucked into her hand. “Do you still want to be cheeky?”

He would deny her, deny them both if he meant he stayed in control. She could see in his eyes. He wanted to fuck her just as much as she wanted to fuck him but he could also walk out and fuck his fist instead. He would do it just to punish her. 

She hooked a finger on the edge of his pants and pulled it down, freeing his cock. He raised an eyebrow at her as she took in the size of him. He cupped her face and turned her head up to look at him.

“Last chance, love. Do you want to be cheeky or do you want to be a good girl?” 

He was winning. She wanted him, really wanted him. He was right in saying he wouldn’t disappoint her. Seeing him above her with a calloused hand on her cheek made her submissive. Precum was dripping from his tip and all she could think about was the taste. It wouldn’t be a humiliating defeat, it would be done with grace and the sound of skin slapping skin. 

She rubbed her thumb over the tip of his cock, wiping precum onto the pad. She looked up at him as she licked it off. She would be a good girl, just for tonight, just for him. 

He chuckled before climbing over her to grab a condom out of the bedside table’s drawer. She found herself clenching around nothing as she watched him put it on. He knew how to put on a show that’s for sure. 

His hands glided down her sides to her legs and hooked under her knees. He pressed her legs forward into her chest. He placed his full weight against her. 

“If this is too much, tell me.” He said, kissing her forehead. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her folds and teased her entrance. He looked at her, waiting for permission. 

She kissed him, wrapping a hand around his neck. 

He went slow as he pushed into her. He couldn’t help grinning as a guttural groan from her escaped into his mouth. He rocked slowly, allowing her to stretch around him.  Her nails ran up and down his neck. 

He was using her. Thrusting deep and hard, letting her jolt underneath him. It wasn’t uncaring though. He held her down, kept his eyes on her, grunting in response to her moans and cries. 

“You take me so well, cheeky girl.” It was mocking almost, ignoring the watery eyes caused by the sweet stretch of muscle that allowed him to bottom out inside her. “Glad you went home with me, eh? The old man fucking you right?”

Any words she wanted to say bubbled up as whimpers. Every breath pushed from her lungs every time the head of his cock brushed against the end of her. Her legs were shaking hard already, muscles twitching and straining. 

“Too much for ya, eh?” He say up and pulled his cock out. Her legs fell flat around him. He rubbed a knuckle over her burning cheek. “I’m gonna flip you over now.”

He held her hips and gently turned her over on her stomach. Strong hands rubbed down her back. She felt empty and pushed her hips back against him. He gave a firm slap to her ass and tskd her.

“You have no patience.” He grabbed a pillow and folded it over before sliding it underneath her hips, elevating them. 

His chest was pressed against her back, beard ticking her face. Her thighs were being spread, ropes of slick stringing them together. She was going to ruin the pillowcase.

He thrust into her, using his weight to pin her down. His teeth grazed her throat. The edge of the fitted sheet slipped from the corner with a snap. He had nice sheets, soft, recently cleaned. The fabric was hard to hold onto for long. 

Her eyes started fluttering as heat pooled in her cunt. She clenched around him, legs squirming helplessly.

“I want you to cum for me. I want to hear my name come out of your mouth when you do.” He nipped at her neck. “I know you can do it, cheeky girl.”

“Joh…John.” She let out a stuttered groan as she came. She could feel the pillow get wet underneath her. He fucked her hard through it. 

“I’m close.” He said, a wet kiss pressed against her hear. “Hold on just a bit longer.”

It felt like thunder when he tensed above her. She was afraid the condom would break with how hard he gripped her hips as he finished with hard deep thrusts. 

He rolled off of her and stroked her cheek.

“Did I disappoint?”

She shook her head. Her panting left a pool of drool by her mouth. He got up and disappeared from her view. Her cunt still throbbed, begging to be filled again. She could take him again, if she wanted. And god, she fucking wanted to. 

He came back with a warm washcloth and glass of water. He turned her onto her back and began cleaning her inner thighs. 

“You’re welcome to stay the night or I can drive you home.”

“I don’t think my legs work anymore.” She could still feel the weight of him against her, making her part of his mattress. He gave her thigh a light slap, she didn’t flinch. He chuckled as he looked over her. 

“I’ll take you home in the morning.” He got her a new pillow for under her head and tucked her in. He kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, cheeky girl.”

She fell asleep quickly. 

At some point she felt the mattress sink down next to her. She woke up alone though with the smell of coffee and cigars drifting in from the open bedroom door. 

[swifty-fox]

Hi Hope your day is going well May I ask you "Lose the other in a nightmare, and cling to them when they awake." with the Bucks for the writing prompt?

It's going!! clearing out soo many prompts. This turned out oddly tender

from here

Of the things John Egan and Gale Cleven had expected to find a challenge upon returning home, sleep was not one of them. At Thorpe they slept the way soldiers did; efficiently and when they were expected to. As kriegies their exhausted starving bodies meant they slept often and deeply, trying to conserve fading energy reserves.

Sleep was a fraught battlefield now, a waiting game of how long would they rest and what horrors would find them in it. Nightmares weren't a question of if, but rather when they would hit. Sometimes Bucky liked to make it a game, thought he doubted Buck would appreciate it if he knew, of who would wake first.

So far Gale was in the lead.

Often, they were quiet with it, trained silence or maybe sheer stubbornness, rarely did either of them so much as whimper or flail. Simply jolted awake, breath ragged and sudden as their bodies remembered where they were.

Tonight, it is Bucky's turn to jerk awake.

Gale is a steady weight on his chest, breathing slow and even, pressure grounding John back into his body almost instantly. He knew Gale preferred to sleep on his side or his stomach, but this arrangement had become their regular these days as winter drew closer.

They both no longer did well in the cold.

A shaft of moonlight falls perfectly across Gale's face, lighting his usually tawny features up siler and smoke. His hair, loose for once without any product, an eerie bone white and soft as silk through John's fingers. Eyelashes ice white, lips a soft mist color with only the slightest of blush peeking through the monochrome. Bucky tugs the slumbering man closer, draping him more fully on his body and exhales shakily, traces a hand down Gale's spine and presses soft lips to the corner of Gale's temple, breathing in the smell of him, and nuzzles into his hair to try to fall back to sleep.

The vivid sight of Gale running through his dreams, dirty and hungry and terrified, clung to him. Again and again in his minds eye he watched Gale vault over that wall, heard the crack of a gun from the soldier he was to slow to reach in time. The violent jerk of Buck's body as the bullets spin him around. Red red blood trickling over frozen stone onto the snow. Much too far away, but it was a dream, so John could hear the ragged rattle of Buck's last breath, shocked and hurt as if he had no idea what just happened.

Gale's hair smells like lemon and John's cigarettes. It's just a dream.

[gumnut-logic]

Gordon sipped at his recently constructed Tracy Sunrise mocktail, complete with a slice of candied lemon and mandatory umbrella, as he climbed the stairs into the comms room.

He and Virg were back from a successful rescue in England. Part of an ancient, like really ancient, two story cottage had half collapsed on its tenants.

Virgil had muttered something about stressors and mortar and age, most of which had gone over Gordon’s head as engineer technobabble, but John had agreed and thrown them all the numbers.

They had been in the area after pulling a sub out from under the ice in what was left of the Arctic ice sheet, so a quick drop in on the way home was easy.

The elderly couple had been saved. Their dog had gone missing for a moment or two, but Rover had gotten himself found by Gordon and all family members had reunited at the local ambulance with little more than a scratch or two each.

Couldn’t ask for a better result.

John sent them home and into the darkness of night time and what was likely to be a quick debrief when Scott got back from Australia.

Gordon had been tempted to drop in on Penny along the way, but apparently she was in Russia.

He didn’t ask why.

So home, a quick sandwich in the kitchen, and a tropical mocktail to shake the cooler climates out of his soul.

“Virg, you gotta try this.”

There was no answer from the lounge.

Gordon frowned. His big brother was nowhere in sight. He coulda sworn…“Virg?”

The familiar clink of a paintbrush being rinsed in a water glass just as Gordon approached the lounge…and there he was.

Virgil sat on the floor in his pyjamas, painting. It was hit or miss as to whether there was more paint on him or the canvas sheet he had spread on the floor.

Grandma was not going to be happy about that.

But…”How on Earth have you managed to get into such a mess so quickly? We only got home half a hour ago, and most of that was shower.”

Virgil grunted and didn’t even bother to look up at him.

Okay, immersed in what he was doing. Don’t prod the bear when focussed.

Instead Gordon sat himself down on the couch beside his brother and sipped quietly on his drink.

Gordon had to admit that he quite enjoyed watching his brother work. Brotherly ribbing aside, Gordon was quite proud of what his brothers were capable of and Virgil was great spectator sport.

Paint came out of tubes and was dabbed onto the canvas to create all kinds of interesting things.

Today it appeared Virgil was painting a flower of some kind. There was pink and green…a rose?

Virgil was known for painting flowers, after all, they had plenty on the Island to play with, but roses weren’t the typical.

“A rose?”

Virgil didn’t even look up at him. “Has thorns.” It was muttered absent-mindedly, and as Gordon peered closer he realised he had been a little mistaken.

The figure on the canvas sheet had its origins in a pink rose, but as his brother laid down more colour, it morphed into something closer to Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors. What the-?

His brother sketched in teeth and the painting snarled despite its pinks and soft greens.

Gordon frowned. “You okay?”

Another grunt from his brother only had Gordon frowning harder. Virgil obviously had a bee in his bonnet.

But then the lighting caught a particular shade of pink that screamed cloudy day reflecting off scattered petals amongst fallen brickwork.

Thorns.

There had been a climbing rose on that cottage. Virgil had said something about accumulated growth and the weakening of ancient mortar…

“We saved them, Virg, no one was hurt.” He reached out and placed his hand on tight shoulder muscles.

His brother sighed and sat back, just touching Gordon’s knee. “I know.” He rolled his shoulder, brush still in hand, and the joint cracked.

Gordon winced. “Maybe we should skip debrief-“

“No, no.” Another sigh. “Gotta get it out.” The last word faded as Virgil returned to painting his devilish floral creation.

Gordon just sat and watched his brother. Gordon could see desperate swim strokes in Virgil actions, that need to work it out of the system. He could understand.

Scott wasn’t going to be happy. But then Scott was never happy when a brother wasn’t one hundred percent. But they all had their coping mechanisms, both the gym and the Tracy Island trails could vouch for that when Scott needed to do the same.

Virgil’s method was just a little different-

(The plant monster now had dripping fangs)

-if a little terrifying.

-o-o-o-

[ttexed]

Larry Williams - She Said Yeah

‘Larry Williams (May 10, 1935  January 7, 1980) was an American rhythm and blues and rock and roll singer, songwriter and pianist from New Orleans, Louisiana. Williams is best known for writing and recording some rock and roll classics from 1957 to 1959 for Specialty Records, including "Bony Moronie", "Short Fat Fannie", "Bad Boy", "Dizzy Miss Lizzie" and "She Said Yeah," which were later covered by British Invasion groups and other artists. John Lennon, in particular, was a fan of Williams, recording several of his songs over the course of his career. "Bony Maronie" is listed as one of the Top 500 songs that shaped Rock and Roll. 

Williams lived a life mixed with tremendous success and violence-fueled drug addiction. He was a long-time friend of Little Richard. As a child in New Orleans, Williams learned how to play piano. When he was a teenager, he and his family moved to Oakland, California, where he joined a local R&B group called the Lemon Drops. In 1954, when he was 19 years old, Williams went back to New Orleans for a visit. He began work as Lloyd Price's valet and developed a friendship with Little Richard Penniman, who was recording at the time in New Orleans. Price and Penniman were both recording for Specialty Records at the time. Williams was introduced to Specialty's house producer, Robert Blackwell, and was signed to record. 

 In 1957, Little Richard was Specialty's biggest star, but bolted from Rock and Roll to pursue the ministry. Williams was quickly groomed by Blackwell to try to replicate his success. Using the same raw, shouting vocals and piano-driven intensity, Williams scored with a number of hit singles. Williams' three biggest successes were "Short Fat Fannie", which was his first hit, reaching #5 in Billboard's pop chart, "High School Dance", which also made #5, and "Bony Moronie", which peaked at #14. Both "Short Fat Fanny" and "Bony Moronie" sold over one million copies, gaining gold discs. Several of his songs achieved later success as revivals by The Beatles ("Bad Boy", "Slow Down", and "Dizzy Miss Lizzy"); The Rolling Stones ("She Said Yeah"); and John Lennon's versions of "Bony Moronie" and "Dizzy Miss Lizzy". 

 Williams had been involved with underworld activity since his early teens, and had reputedly been a pimp before he ever recorded music. After 1957 Williams did not have much success selling records. He recorded a number of songs in 1958 and 1959, including "Heebie Jeebies", with band members such as Plas Johnson on tenor sax and Alvin "Red" Tyler on baritone, Barney Kessel on guitar, Gerald Wilson on trumpet, Ernie Freeman or Williams himself on piano, and Earl Palmer on drums. He was convicted of dealing narcotics in 1960 and served a jail term, setting back his career considerably. 

 Williams made a comeback in the mid-1960s with a funky soul band that included Johnny "Guitar" Watson, which paired him musically with Little Richard who had been lured back into secular music. He produced two Little Richard albums for Okeh Records in 1966 and 1967, which returned Little Richard to the Billboard album chart for the first time in ten years and spawned the hit single Poor Dog. He also acted as the music director for the Little Richard's live performances at the Okeh Club. Bookings for Little Richard during this period skyrocketed. Williams also recorded and released material of his own and with Watson, with some moderate chart success. This period may have garnered few hits but produced some of his best and most original work.  

Williams also began acting in the 1960s, appearing on film in Just for the Hell of It (1968), The Klansman (1974), and Drum (1976). 

 In the 1970s, there was also a brief dalliance with disco, but Williams' wild lifestyle continued. By the middle of the decade, the drug abuse and violence was taking its toll. In 1977, Williams pulled a gun on and threatened to kill his long-time friend, Little Richard, over a drug debt. They were both living in Los Angeles and addicted to cocaine. Little Richard bought drugs from him, arranged to pay him later, but did not show up because he was high. Williams was furious. He hunted him down but ended up showing compassion on his long-time friend after Little Richard repaid the debt. This, along with other factors, led to Little Richard's return to born again Christianity and the ministry, but Williams would not escape LA's seedy underworld.'

 SOURCE: Wikipedia 

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 11

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: don John STILL being himself an asshole, nsfw chapter map

You scream, certain in the span of a blink that he will land on his neck and you will be a widow before you ever got the chance to actually marry the man. 

Paul hits the dirt hard–and your heart with it–but he rolls with the impact, and somehow ends the disaster standing on his feet, looking utterly flabbergasted that he emerged unscathed. His smile is like the breaking of sunshine from behind an ominous cloud. The horse shies to the far end of the pen, stomping indignantly, and the crowd erupts with shouts and whistles for him. Everyone is delighted–except for don Juan, of course, who looks on with the expression of a man who bit into a particularly wretched lemon. 

That is when you are certain Juan cinched the saddle badly–if at all–and deliberately tried to hurt Paul with this escapade. Vibrating with rage, you march over to him, poking him hard in that solid chest of his. “How dare you?” you hiss. 

“Cálmate,” he sneers, batting your hand away. Calm yourself. 

But you have never been so angry in your life, rage filling you like a howling forest fire, and you wind up to slap him. He catches your wrist at the last moment, jerking you close with that iron-hard strength that always takes you by surprise. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says low in your ear, before releasing you to stalk back into the pen. No one paid any attention to your exchange, all fawning over Paul, who has thankfully had the good sense to exit the corral and leave the horse-breaking to the professionals. 

It takes a good five minutes for you to reclaim your temporary husband, everyone crowding around Paul to clap him on the shoulder and rib him for falling off like a circus monkey. You are still trembling by the time he sidles over to you, his joy dampening as he sees you are on the verge of a breakdown. 

“Hey now. I’m fine.”

He is covered in dust, and there’s a scrape on his cheek. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, masking the maelstrom inside you with low words. It doesn’t fool Paul for a second. 

“Hey,” he says again, drawing you into the circle of his arms. “It’s alright. Please don’t cry?”

“I’m going to cry,” you inform him, your facade cracking a little with your voice, “And I’d like to not do it here. Will you take me inside?” 

When you frame it this way he slings his arm over your shoulders, leading you towards the house. You notice as you walk together that he’s developed a slight limp. 

Estupido. 

This idiotic, loveable, absolute puppy dog of a man. 

If he’d been seriously hurt…you would have done a lot more than tried to slap don Juan.

“Is anything broken?” 

“No,” he insists, but makes a sound through his teeth as he puts weight on his ankle.

“Lean on me,” you insist quietly, and once you round the wall of the courtyard, he does. 

Once you have him safely bundled in your room and seated in a chair he pays you a sheepish smile that makes you want to forgive him everything. “Guess you’re going to say ‘I told you so,’ huh?”

You give him a look that only makes him grin wider, the scamp. “Do I really have to?”

“Hmm. Well…I think my cowboy days are behind me now.”

Thank God.

“That’s a relief.” You dab at his chin with a wet rag, getting the dirt out of the scrape as gently as you can. “Though…you did very well, considering.” 

His dark eyes sparkle for your reluctant praise. 

“I had some good last-minute advice.” You narrow your eyes down at him, but your annoyance just seems to bounce off this man like rubber. Stranger yet, he seems to enjoy it. “You were pretty worried about me, huh?” 

“Of course I was. Have you ever seen a man turned into a vegetable from a kick to the head?” You shudder, remembering an incident with one of your older cousins when you were a girl. The memory of his dead, staring eyes will always haunt you. By some mercy he only lingered a month, before succumbing in his bed.  

“I’ve seen plenty of terrible things, honey,” Paul gently reminds you, looking down at his hands.  

You freeze, feeling stupid in that moment. He’s seen that and worse, you’re suddenly sure. But then…you are angry all over again. Because he survived all that, just to nearly die for the sake of riding a horse? 

“Then why risk it?” you snipe. “What for? To prove you are a man? To who? To them? To Juan? To me? I already know you’re braver and truer than anyone!”

He looks up at you with those liquid brown eyes, and you feel yourself melt all over again. “Are you saying…I've got something to live for?” he asks hopefully.  

“I should hope so! You have your whole life ahead of you!”

“That’s not what I mean.” 

You make a small, exasperated sound in your throat that causes his lips to twist, trying not to smile. 

“Tell me why you were so worried.” 

“You know why.” 

“Not sure I do…” He pulls you in closer between his spread legs, looking up at you with that pleading dark gaze. You have to close your eyes against the strength of the emotion that fills you at that moment, another round of tremors quaking through your bones. 

This man. 

“You know I care about you.”  

“Uh huh.” He rests his chin upon your breastbone, still looking up at you expectantly. 

“I told you that you’re precious to me.” 

“Yeah.”  

His hands have made it to your waist, spanning your back, holding you to him. It makes you dizzy all over again–you are finding it harder and harder, to imagine life without those hands on you, holding you, comforting you, making you go to pieces…

“Paul…” you whine, begging for mercy he might not be in the mood to grant right now. You’re not really sure how you end up straddling his lap. He pulled you, maybe, or…you just melted into him. More and more, it seems like that is how things have been going. You are helpless as a magnet seeking iron with this man, the one thing you are meant to hold on to. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you to him, and you stay like that together for a long time, your head on his shoulder. 

“You have to promise me to be careful with Juan,” you whisper. “He meant to hurt you today.” 

“Oh. Maybe he hoped, but it was just one of his mean little games.” You marvel that even now, this man can’t imagine that off the battlefield, someone truly meant him serious harm. 

“No, Paul. He cinched the saddle too loose. I’m certain of it. He hoped the horse would kill you for him.” Paul is quiet in your arms as he digests this, not dismissing your accusation again. “Maybe…we should go, before something terrible happens. I can take you back to San Francisco.” 

His powerful body shudders with laughter beneath you. “You’re gonna escort me home, huh?” 

You sigh, knowing it sounds ridiculous when he puts it like that. You just…can’t shake the need to protect him, when it seems for some reason no one else in the world ever has. 

He kisses your temple. “Sweetheart, you are my home right now. I’m not leaving you.”  

You lift your head to brush his lips with yours. “I’m scared,” you admit. You wish the two of you could just steal off into the night, much like the first time you fled this place. 

He nods, and it means the world to you, that he doesn’t outright dismiss your fear. He’s the only man in the world you know who has actually listened to you. You comb your fingers through his hair at his temples, looking at him from so close, your heart so full you think it might explode. You almost feel as though you are watching from outside your body, as you gather your breath and gird your loins, ready to tell him how you really feel. “Paul…I lo–” 

There is a knock on the door. The interruption makes you jump as though you’ve been caught. “Y/n?”

You get to your feet, reluctantly answering the door when you recognize Esmerelda, the head housekeeper’s voice. “Sí, Esme?” 

You crack the door to find the older woman looking despondent on your threshold. “You need to come quickly. Your father…has taken a turn.” 

You shoot an apologetic look back at Paul, who nods with understanding even though you know for all the world he wants to hear the rest of the words you’d had for him, right on the tip of your tongue. “I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you, Esme.” 

With a sudden feeling of dread in your heart, you close the door behind you, and you run. 

[internet-horror-bracket]

Hey, are tumblr brackets still a thing? Well, I'm doing another.

The point of this blog will be to have multiple polls for voting on your favorite internet horror that's at least a decade old. Submissions for other contestants are now open, and the list will be updated as time goes on.

Rules

Nothing with real gore is allowed (ogrish, rotten . com, funky town, etc.)

Try to avoid big-name mascott creepy pastas (Slenderman, Jeff The Killer, etc.)

Most, if not all entries, will include subject matter of varying levels of sensitivity so viewer discretion is advised.

No porn based shock videos (lemon party, 2 girls 1 cup, BME pain Olympics, etc.)

First come, first serve

Under the cut will be already suggested/accepted into the bracket submissions. Google at your own risk.

Update: Thank you guys for all the nominations! I'm going to keep the submissions open until Saturday, May 4th 2024, or until we hit 40 nominees. I'm not familiar with all of the submissions but I've been googling them as I go and will try and update myself on the ones that are new to me.

Watchmerot . com

There Is Nothing (Dining Room)

I Feel Fantastic

Maze Game Jump Scare

Peaceful Car Ride Jump Scare

Lavendertown Syndrome

Blank Room Soup

Ted The Caver

Salad Fingers

EverymanHYBRID

Username 666

Shay Saint John

Bongcheon-Dong Ghost

Lomando

Possibly In Michigan

Russian Sleep Experiment

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (2011)

No Through Road

Treats For Beasts

theholders . org

Marble Hornets

Monument Mythos

Mereana Mordegard Glesgorv (cursed video of man behind a red filter smiling at the camera)

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SCP Foundation

MLAndersen0

The Dionaea House

Godzilla NES

Candle Cove

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Normal Porn For Normal People

Goat Valley Campgrounds

Penpals (r/nosleep)

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VI: horseshoe overlook ii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 13.3k

summary: you, Arthur, and Hosea find some important horses on your trek to a hunt gone-wrong. Away from camp, Arthur opens up, letting you peek through his point of view to his heart-breaking past. Dutch asks for your help.

a/n: chapter six! Arthur and reader find their heart horses, there's a lot of hurt/comfort too which we love. Oh and I spoiled a plot point to Jane Eyre, so sorry if you were planning to read it, but also it was published 176 years ago so maybe get onto that. Also the tuberculosis in Jane Eyre was just a coincidence, so don't fret. I plan on keeping Arthur tb free. Lastly, there is some good ol' fashioned 'talking about our feelings' in this chapter. We are opening up and talking about trauma, yay! BTW, series hit 50k this chapter! Anyway! Enjoy

warnings: animal abuse (seeing a horse that has been abused), mentions of former child abuse, mentions of infertility, all are described briefly, nothing graphic.

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo10300 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup

Arthur’s supposed to be on watch, and you’re supposed to be doing laundry. But he’s tired of staring at trees and you’re sick of cleaning beer and stew out of Uncle’s long johns, so here you are.

Technically, Arthur hasn’t completely abandoned his task like you have. You’re both sitting on a decent sized boulder, the one he always sits on during his guard shift, just off the trail into Horseshoe. But his eyes are not focused on the trees, instead they fixate on his journal, where he is sketching something on the ivory pages. You’re all too curious, again, about what he’s drawing, but he's positioned in a manner so the contents remain hidden from your nosey gaze. He hasn’t missed the way you subtly lean every once in a while, peering down your nose to try and see the pages. Each time he notices, a small smile tugs on his lip, and he pulls the journal a little tighter towards himself. Arthur’s carbine rests between you two on the rock, next to a little bag of candies that he had picked up when you were in town a few days ago. Currently, your nose is in a book, but you haven’t been reading it for a few moments, instead peeking over the pages at Arthur. It’s nice to get away from camp for a bit. The past few days you’ve spent doing house chores for Grimshaw. She was less than happy when you “Went to the saloon all day with the men” as she put it, those couple days ago. She made sure that you made up for the lost time, and you were stuck peeling potatoes for so long that your hands went numb. 

It’s a beautiful day, the sun shines brightly, and a warm breeze passes through the camp. Birds chirp, singing their tunes as they build nests in the trees above your head. A few rabbits have passed by, even a fox, filling up on food before the storm hits, another reason you’re avoiding your chores. Charles had warned everyone that by the look of the clouds, a big storm was coming, probably tomorrow. You’ll be damned if you spent the last nice day staring at Pearson’s apron or a laundry bin.

You watch as Arthur moves his eyes from the journal to the bag of sweets, and he reaches into it, pulling out a yellow candy. With an almost unnoticeable frown, he drops it back into the paper  bag, and pulls out a red one. He seems satisfied enough with this choice, and he brings the little treat to his lips. It’s been so long since you’ve had the pleasure of candy, and you’ve gone and eaten nearly half the bag. You haven’t had money for pleasantries in a long while, not since your momma died anyway. 

“You don’t like the lemon ones?” You ask, reaching into the bag and pulling out the one he had dropped back inside. You pop it into your mouth, eyes slipping shut in bliss from the sweet, tart flavor of the candy. Arthur looks up at you for a quick moment, scanning over your face with a chuckle before trailing back down to his journal. 

“Nah, I like 'em well enough, but I noticed they’re your favorite. Didn’t wanna take all the good ones from ya.” 

You smile, grabbing another yellow candy from the bag just as you feel the remnants of the last one finish dissolving. You missed hard candies. They weren’t exactly high on your list of priorities before joining the gang. You put your book down, a piece Marybeth had let you borrow. You’ve read it a few times, and you already know exactly what the pages entail. However, you don’t know what the pages of Arthur’s journal look like. 

“Whatcha drawin’?” You ask, criss crossing your legs on the boulder. Arthur huffs a laugh, having expected this question. 

“Nothin’ much, just somethin’ little.” Arthur whispers. You’re confused as he leans down towards the grass, plucking a dooryard violet from a little patch of the wildflowers. So many of Arthur’s actions throw you for a loop. He’s so… dynamic, constantly showing you new sides to him that you would never expect. 

He unsheathes his hunting knife, quickly snipping the stem of the flower off. Now what really throws you off is when Arthur leans over, concentrated, and tucks the flower behind your ear. He adjusts your hair accordingly. 

“There,” He whispers, settling back into his former position to admire you. “Purple looks good on you, well except when it's your cheek that's purple but-” Arthur jokes, nodding to your bruised cheek, and you laugh, shoving him a bit. 

“I was just about to say that you’re goin’ soft, but now you’re makin’ fun of me. I guess things are back to normal.”

Arthur’s face turns to mock hurt, as he squints at you. 

“I ain’t goin’ soft.” He chides. 

You placate him, putting your hands up. 

“Alright, whatever you say, Mister.” 

With a smile, you pick your book back up. Arthur reaches into the bag of candy, pulling out a yellow one. Words need not be said as he mumbles to get your attention, and when you look up, he tosses the little yellow candy towards you. You catch it, tossing it into your mouth and thanking him. It’s quiet as both of you pick your books back up. It’s nice, with you both silently enjoying each other's company. You’re lost in the world of Jane Eyre, and Arthur lost in his journal. Every so often Arthur will peek up from his book, glancing at you for a moment before returning to his sketching. 

You reach the bit of the novel where Helen is lying on her deathbed, finally succumbing to tuberculosis. This particular scene has been read and reread by you many times, but it still manages to choke you up. Helen is so brave in the face of death, so sure of the paradise that will await her. And poor Jane, another loss, another grief. You’re not sure what happens after death, but if there is an afterlife, you’re not so sure you’ll be on the pleasant side of it. Tears begin to prick the sides of your eyes as Helen speaks her last line to Jane, begging her not to grieve, beckoning her to find joy. Arthur eyes you curiously from the side of his eyes, wondering what about that little book has you so in your head. With a sigh, you finish the chapter and sniffle, placing the book down to take a breath. Arthur’s charcoal stills on the paper as he hesitates, a question on his lips. 

“What's goin’ on in that head a yours? Tough read?” Arthur asks, gesturing to the little ruby colored book in your hands. You meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow, placing the book down on it’s opened pages to keep  your spot. 

“How about a compromise? I’ll tell ya…if you show me what you’re drawin.” 

Arthur’s eyes turn dark with mock threat as he whispers, tone gravelly. 

“Never.”  He chuckles, and you sigh dramatically. 

You both slip into a comfortable silence again, and you find yourself bored. You don’t feel like reading any more, and you’ve picked through most of the yellow candies, so in a futile attempt to distract yourself you toy with your spurs, flicking the rowel and watching as it spins. Arthur notices this, and he huffs. He’s noticed in the past few weeks that you’re always keeping your hands busy, always toying with something or other. He thinks back to when you were tracing constellations on his palm in the bath, and his head hangs low with some shame, and a pain. 

“I uh- I been meanin’ to apologize…” Arthur mumbles, eyes fixated on his book. 

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, what on earth does he have to apologize for?

“The other day in Valentine, in the bath house. I overstepped- or I misread the situation n’ Im sorry. Never meant to make you uncomfortable, Star.” Arthur all but whispers, a heavy feeling settling in his gut because he doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to push you away, and he is. 

Immediately your heart sinks, you’ve been meaning to have this conversation, practicing your words when you lie awake at night, unable to sleep. But all the things you wanted to say slip from your mind.

“That wasn't… you didn't-" You mumble, at a loss for words. There's so much you could tell him right now, so much you could explain. But you don't. No, instead you shove it down, pulling that unbothered facade over your face that has been protecting you from heartache for years. 

"We don't gotta talk about it, Arthur." You whisper, flicking the rowel of your spurs and avoiding his eye contact. 

You can still see it though, as Arthur leans back, cocking his head with a downcast face. He wants to talk about it, but you can't. 

With a sigh, you lay back against the rock, hands behind your head to look up at the clouds. As soon as your back hits the rock, Arthur sighs, humorously irritated. 

"Dammit woman will you just- " Arthur chuckles, pulling you back up to a sitting position by grabbing your forearm. 

"Just hold still for a minute, I'm tryin' to do somethin…" Arthur smiles because you're always moving, you can't sit still, and a moving model proves to be a difficult one. 

You go back to your sitting position, and Arthur leans over towards you, adjusting the violet in your hair. Your eyebrows are pulled together in confusion for a moment until you spot the little journal sitting in his lap, closed over his charcoal. Your eyes go wide, and your lips crack into a shocked smile.

Arthur leans back, picking the journal back up and opening it. For a few seconds his eyes run over the soft features of your face, and then he looks down to his paper.

"You're- You're drawin' me ?" You ask, perplexed, honored.

When Arthur glances up, seeing the look on your face, he gets nervous. He probably should have asked your permission first. He didn't mean anything strange by the drawing, and he doesn't want you to think that. 

Arthur scratches the back of his neck, searching for words to explain, but falling short.

"Uh- yeah, I am. But I don't mean anything odd by it. I just like to draw things that I like or that I find- Well, I don't know, usually I draw things that I think are pretty. Like nature n' plants and uh…" Arthur rambles, terrified you're gonna think he's some type of pervert. A smile blossoms across your face, a full, genuine one. He's dug himself in with his words he realizes when you lean in toward him, voice quiet. 

"...and me?" You ask, finishing his sentence. Arthur smiles crookedly, eyes on the paper as he responds. 

"Yeah, like you." 

You smile, content. Arthur continues sketching. The quiet scratching of charcoal on paper is the only reminder that he's still beside you as you slip your eyes shut, soaking up the last of the sun. You listen to his sketching, to his breathing, and the little sighs and chuckles he lets out when you move too much. He knows you can't sit still, it's just one of those little things about you. 

After a while, the sketching stops, and you peek one eye open, glancing down at Arthurs hands. He sets the charcoal down, closes the book and then dusts his hands off of his jeans. 

"You gonna let me see it?" You ask, turning towards him, adjusting the flower in your hair. 

"I never really shown anyone this… My new one or my old." Arthur says, quietly. 

"You don't gotta, it's okay." You reassure, sincerely. He's very closed off about the journal, and you respect that. Having one yourself, you understand the desire to keep it hidden away. Arthur thinks for a moment, looking down to the leather bound journal in his hands. 

"Here," he whispers, opening it to the correct page and handing it towards you. You hesitate, not wanting to push him, but he nods for you to go on.

"It's just for fun, I'm not real good or anything." Arthur adds, always having a lesser opinion of his works. 

You very gently take the pages from his hands, pulling the book towards you. You cover your gaping mouth in shock. Anytime Arthur has previously mentioned his drawings he downplayed them greatly. You should have expected this, as he always down plays his talents. But you had expected messy scribblings, doodles. 

What Arthhr has created is beautiful. He intricately copied your face onto the paper, perfectly portraying you in his own style. His shading is perfect, contouring your face and the bright smile plastered onto it. He's drawn the violet, sticking out from behind your ear. 

"Arthur…" You gasp, taken aback by his artistry. Next to the journal is a little note, accompanied by your name, spelled out in all caps, and a little drawing of the north star. 

She joined me for my guard shift again. We was bored so I started drawing while she read something or other. She looked real pretty with that flower in her hair, oh and she likes YELLOW CANDIES.

Arthur blushes a bit, embarrassed that you've read his thoughts, but he knows you won't judge him for it. Make fun of him, however? Knowing you, you will. He chuckles, glancing up to your face. 

A throat clears behind you both, and you jump, turning to see Hosea standing there. He curiously eyes Arthur's journal in your hands, eyes flickering between the two of you, knowing that you're the first person he's ever shown those pages to. 

"How's your watch goin'?" Hosea asks, knowingly quirking a brow. 

"Just fine, now whatchu need?" Arthur asks, gently taking the journal back and binding it up. Hosea is unshaken by Arthur's attitude, having dealt with it for nearly twenty years. 

"Your horse. I'm heading to the stables to buy a new ride, but I need a way to get there." Hosea answers. 

"Thought that was your horse there? Why don't you ride him down to the stables?" Arthur asks, gesturing up the slope towards the hitching posts to where a massive black shire horse resides. You don't recall seeing the beastly animal before, but then again you've been stuck with Miss Grimshaw. 

"Yes, well I'm giftin' that bastard to you. He's a nasty son of a bitch, and I'm too old to be thrown. I nearly died a handful of times just getting him back here. I stole him from a fella on the road a few days back, now Karmas got me." Hosea says, angrily gesturing towards the stallion who is pinning his ears and pawing the ground impatiently. 

"He can't be all bad. You know anything about him?" You say, eyebrows pulled together as you stand up, walking up the slopes to the posts. The two boys follow you. 

"Well before I robbed him of his horse and his hunting map, me and this fella got to drinkin'. He was boasting about this damn thing, and said it was immortal. Apparently he was ridden by a bounty hunter before this, and got hit with more bullet shrapnel than you'd believe. Somehow he managed to stay alive. Fella was drunker than a skunk though, so I reckon you should take it with a grain of salt."

You stand back with Hosea as Arthur steps towards the uneasy animal. The horse stomps, ears pinned, and Arthur coos to him, hands up in surrender to the animal. 

"That boys' always had a way with animals." Hosea remarks, watching as Arthur calms the shire enough to pet it. His hands meet the dark horse's neck as he shushes. After a few moments, the horse begins to calm. His tail stops swishing, his ears prick to the sides, listening to Arthur and his lip becomes loose. 

"Real good, boy. Now don't go kickin me, I'm just gonna take a look, I ain't gonna hurt ya." Arthur coos, running his hand from the horse's front shoulder down to its hock and pastern. He whistles lightly, pulling his hand back up. 

"Feller weren't lyin'. Legs are covered in old scars. It's a miracle he didn't die from infection or just get put down." Arthur says, patting the horse's croup before backing up, eyeing the horse from a few steps back. 

"He got a name?" Arthur asks, and Hosea shakes his head. 

"No, never given one." Hosea adds.

"Reckon I'll start callin you Balius, you're a strong one." Arthur says, moving back towards the horse and picking up his hoof, checking over the state of it. 

"Balius…?" You ask, not sure why Arthur would have picked that name. It's beautiful,  but foreign to you. 

"Ah, Balius. An immortal horse, a gift from Poseidon." Hosea smiles, looking at Arthur and the horse. 

"Arthur, he's a smart one. Too humble to show it often, I'm afraid." Hosea whispers to you. 

You think back to Boadicea. Arthur must take some interest in history and mythology. You curiously watch him, seeing Arthur in a different light. 

"Okay, I can take him off your hands. Go ahead and ride my Walker to the stables. Just board him there for now, I'll see how this big guy does." Arthur says, pulling an oatcake from his satchel and feeding it to a now calm Balius. 

You glance to the unhitched horses, seeing your buckskin grazing with the other gang member's horses. He's a small thing, not much muscle on him and Colter certainly didn't help that fact. He's a good horse, but not what you need. You need something strong and quick, something younger. 

"I'll join you, Hosea. I've been meaning to get a new ride for a while." 

"I might as well go too, get him checked out by a stable hand. He's gonna need a different saddle. Boadicea's is still down in Blackwater and the saddle on the walker is a piece a' shit." Arthur pipes in. Hosea places a hand on each of your backs as he smiles, leading you towards the unhitched horses. 

"I'm not sticking around, I'm afraid. Once I get this horse I'll be heading back up to ambarino for a hunt. I hear that there's a beast of a bear up there." 

Arthur stops, hands on his belt as he raises an eyebrow. 

"You want help with it? Y'aint so young no more, Hosea." Arthur asks, not wanting to overstep, but worried about Hosea's cough and age. Taking on a bear is hard for someone your age, let alone Hosea's. Hosea hesitates.

"Star's daddy was a gunsmith. Sure she knows her way around what we need and I can track better than you, let us go, as long as the lady wants to." Arthur adds, looking over to you quickly. 

"Alright, suppose some company would do me some good up in the mountains." Hosea nods, glancing behind him at the horses. 

"I reckon me and Arthur get these horses saddled up. I'll have Charles take the rest of your shift. Dear Star, why don't you go pack a bag, we may be away a few nights. Oh and check in with Dutch, he was asking for you. Tell him we're heading out for a day or two." Hosea orders around, and you nod, anxiety pooling in your gut.

"Dutch was askin for you?" Arthur asks, shooting a look at you and then Hosea. You nod, biting your lip.

"Yeah, said he wants to get to know me on a more personal level… Whatever that means." You mumble, and Arthur's face is drawn up in distaste. Without another word, you head towards your tent. 

You wave at Jack on the way, noticing that Abigail and John are fighting again. You feel bad for the boy, caught up in this life. You ignore the hungry cries of the O'driscoll, tied to a tree on the other side of camp. Dutch is a fool for bringing him here. With a sigh, you part the canvas to your tent, drawing the flaps closed behind you. A little wooden box rests on your bedside table, a gift from Tilly after you'd done her a favor. You pick up the wooden box, hand resting in the lid, and yet you hesitate to open it. You know it's not gonna be good, maybe enough change for some canned goods, but not a horse, which you need.

Frustrated, you slam the box down harder than necessary. Your hand grabs an old saddle bag from under your cot, and you move to your wardrobe. 

You don’t have a tent kit, but you do have a bedroll, so you grab it and stuff it into the bag alongside a few pairs of jeans and some underthings. Damningly, you forget to grab your coat, leaving it stuffed in the bottom of your wardrobe. 

Once your bag is packed you can no longer ignore the wooden box that is haunting you. You sit down on your bed, picking it up and holding it in your lap. You pull the lid off, looking down to a measly five dollar bill. It's not chump change, but it won't help you with a horse. It's the last of the money you have from stealing in Tumbleweed. You hope that with the gang you'll never have to live like that again. You were barely making it, never knowing where you were gonna get a meal or sleep. Anytime you needed to purchase something you had to steal. And now here you are, thinking about how in the hell you're going to steal a horse. 

You pluck the bill from the box, fold it over and stick it into your satchel. 

"Can I come in?" A voice says from outside your tent. It's Arthur, and instinctually you smile.

"Sure c'mon." 

Arthur steps through the flap, coming over to your bed. You scooch over and he sits down beside you on your cot. 

"What's the matter?" Arthur asks, taking his hat off and placing it on the cot. You sigh, closing the box and putting it back on your table. 

"I still feel like I'm just runnin." You whisper, noting the double meaning of your words. 

"From what?" Arthur asks, no judgment in his eyes. 

"Everything," You huff, "Myself mostly. My past, my feelings. Just robbing and killing and lying to survive. I'm stuck back in Tumbleweed, Arthur. I have no money, I have nothin' to my name. I need a damn horse before this one up and dies on me but I can't even afford the cheapest one. I'm gonna have to steal a damn horse." You sigh, running your hands through your hair, plucking out the violet and twirling it between your fingers. Arthur rests his hand on your knee, and you look up to his ocean eyes. 

"Star, you got the whole gang now, okay? You don't gotta watch your back now, cause we all got it." You nod, knowing he's right and feeling better for it.

"I'll help ya get a horse, c'mon." Arthur says, patting your knee for good measure before standing up and placing his hat back on. 

"I'm not lettin you buy me a horse." You bite.

"Marybeth caught word of a train job. You come rob with us, n' get your cut, you can pay me back." Arthur says. You know he would never actually ask you to pay him back, he's only offering this to make you feel better.

Arthur extends his hand out to you, and once you take it, he pulls you up to your feet. He grabs your packed bag from the cot, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Alright, go check in with Dutch, I'll get your horse loaded."

Arthur holds the tent flap open for you, and once you exit he files out behind you. You go your separate ways then. Dutch's large tent seems to rise over the others, intimidating you. But you strengthen your resolve, walking towards it with purpose. 

Just as you reach to pull the canvas aside, Molly  pushes through the flap, knocking into you and pushing you to the side.

"I'm not blind, Dutch! I know what you're doing! You won't even TOUCH me anymore because you’re thinkin about her!" Molly yells, and her voice pierces the ears of everyone in camp. She points her finger at him, seething with rage before grunting loudly. 

"You're delusional. Again." Dutch says, rolling his eyes, frustrated. 

Molly flips him the bird before stomping off. Dutch only watches her go with distaste. 

"Sorry, I didn't intend to interru-" 

"Nonsense. I'm sorry. Miss O'shea has been… difficult as of late." Dutch says, clicking his tongue against the room of his mouth. He comes beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and leading you into his tent. 

"Would I be correct in assuming that you've been avoiding me?" Dutch asks, groaning as he rests down into his chair. Everything about the man is dominating. His stature, his stance, his words. He demands respect, and those who don't give it to him receive a bullet. Naturally, with you being you, you test his boundaries. Arthur trusts Dutch, but he gives you an odd feeling.

"Why would I avoid you?" You chuckle, watching as some of the charisma bleeds from his eyes. He gets off on being frightening, and you've just insulted his resolve.

"Hmm." Dutch squints at you, unsure if you're just ignorant or if you're intentionally pushing his buttons. He grabs a cigar from the pack on his desk, placing it between his lips.

"I only came by to tell you that Hosea, Arthur and I will be off on a job hunting for a few days. They asked me to let you know."  

Dutch nods, holding a match to the candle on his table until it lights before bringing the lit match to his cigar. He makes you wait, lighting the cigar, slowly inhaling and then releasing the breath of air. 

"Okay… I hope you haven't forgotten about our little chat. I've got plans for you. As soon as you return, come see me. We've got a lot to talk about." 

You dip your head in understanding, and turn to exit. 

"And miss?" Dutch calls after you, and you stop, turning on your heels. 

"Hmm?" 

"Do be careful on that hunt. Be a real shame if somethin' scratched up that pretty little face." Dutch says, and your stomach rolls as you exit. 

You try to quell your anger, try to be the bigger person. Dutch is the one person who you cannot piss off. Your tongue gets you in trouble often but you won't let it leave you without a home. You move through camp, Dutch's remark playing through your head. The boys are waiting for you at the hitching posts, and they see your rage from a mile away. 

"Miss Star, what is it?" Hosea asks, checking his girth to make sure it's tight before climbing onto Arthur's horse.

"It's that prick." You snap, finger directed at Dutch's tent. 

"What's the fool gone and done now?" Hosea asks, grabbing the reins and adjusting in the saddle. 

"Dutch? He botherin you?" Arthur asks, glancing between you and Hosea. 

"Oh I can handle it just fine. Miss O'shea don't seem to be handlin' it so well though. Bastard makes her cry and then two seconds later starts tryin' to flirt with me." You growl, climbing into your saddle. You follow Hosea, cantering out of the Overlook. 

"He tried to flirt with you?" Arthur growls. 

"This isn't new for Dutch. He finds something shiny, new, and he wants it. Happened with him and Marybeth too, but I shut that down quick." Hosea yells back. 

"He knows better. I'll have a word with him when we get back." Arthur hisses, disappointed. 

"No. I've got it." You respond. 

"Don't mind him, hard as it may be. Lately he's been nothing but greedy when it comes to women. He's downright disrespectful, demeaning… Annabelle would be ashamed." Hosea shakes his head.

"Annabelle?" You ask, never having heard the name before. You turn in your saddle to look at Arthur. 

"She was Dutch's fiancé. Got killed by Colm O'driscoll." Arthur mutters, an old pain resurfacing. 

"She was a sweet girl. She was good for him, too, and kept him in line. Along with young Arthur over here. He and John were a pair of fools when they were kids. She was always badgerin' them." Hosea chuckles at the memory. 

"Nah, that was mostly Bessie. John used to steal my damn cigarettes all the time. Course that was my fault. God knows little Johnny Marston couldn't do no wrong." Arthur chastises.

"Oh be quiet, Arthur. We all knew you were sneakin them to him. Along with the booze." 

Your eyebrows are pulled together in confusion as the two bicker, and you laugh. 

"Yeah well gettin' the kid drunk was the only way to shut him up." Arthur explains. 

"Wait-" You laugh, "You all knew each other when you were kids?" You ask, trying to piece together the timeline, picturing them all younger.

"We brought Arthur in when he was only a boy, about fifteen if my memory hasn't lost me. Our first stray, our unruly son. For a long while it was just me, Dutch and Arthur. But then I found Bessie and Dutch, his Annabelle, and then eventually we took in John." Hosea explains, trotting over the railroad tracks into the auction yard. 

You can't help but chuckle, the thought of their younger years is a sweet idea. They really are a family, you can see that now 

"How did you end up with them? How did you end up doin' this?" You ask Arthur and then Hosea, spurring your horse.

"I was just a kid, livin' on the streets for a long while, stealin' to get by. The city weren't kind to me. After a few years I decided to get away, take my chances out in the woods. I needed a horse to get away from the city." Arthur explains as you slow your horses, riding towards the livery. Hosea chuckles, and you can't help but smile, wondering where this might be going. 

"So one day I'm sittin' on the sidewalk beggin' for spare change. See these two horses hitched outside the gunsmith, real fine horses. Saw a white one, knew it'd be quick and strong, just what I needed." 

You chuckle, knowing exactly where this is going.

"Get up close to it, no one's lookin' so I throw myself up into the saddle." 

Hosea is smiling brilliantly at the memory, as if he's back in the same setting. 

"That horse threw me faster than you could blink an eye. I'm layin' there on the street like a fool, feelin' sorry for myself when suddenly these angry lookin' outlaws peek over me, lookin' down at me in the mud." 

"And that was where we found him." Hosea laughs. 

You make a note to ask why Arthur was alone at such a young age. Your heart breaks at the idea of him, just a kid, begging for money in the streets. You've heard amongst the laughter of the gang that The Count won't take anyone but Dutch, and Arthur appears to have been the first to test that theory. You trot past the butcher's, making your way towards the stables. Once again, you pass the peculiar one armed man posing as a veteran. You nod to him lightly as you pass, and he smiles in return. 

"We can fill you in on old stories during our trek up the hills. There's a lot of goodones, especially about Arthur here." Hosea chimes, dismounting from Arthur's walker in front of the livery. 

"Great." Arthur says, sarcastically elongating the word.

You slide down from the buckskin, forgoing your eyebrows as you hear commotion on the other side of the closed stable doors. A horse shrieks, whinnying with fear as thumps sound out against the door. 

"Just grab her halter!" A man yells, and the stable doors shake from an apparently hard kick to them.

"I can't! She won't settle, goddamnit she's goin' through!" Another man screams, and suddenly the door cracks and is pushed open. 

A beautiful Palomino mare pushes through the door, terrified and angry. You jump back out of the way with a gasp, almost getting trampled by her. 

"Star, get back!" Arthur yells as the horse rears up, crying out with an ear piercing whinny. 

"I got her!" One of the stable boys yells, swinging a lariat over his head. He releases a coil as the rope flies through the air, landing around the mare's neck. 

The rope only seems to terrify her more, and she drags the poor stable hand who's heels drag in the dirt, trying to pull her in by force. 

You know that there's no way he could possibly force this horse to do anything. She's tall, lean and strong. Her piercing blue eyes are a symbol of her ancestors' spirit. She's a force to be reckoned with, an open flame, you can tell from just a glance. 

"Stop! Stop- you're scarin' her!" You call to the boy with the rope, handing your buckskin's reins to Hosea. You walk towards the spooked mare as she rears, hands placed up to placate her. 

"Be careful, miss, please. She's dangerous. Wasn't taken care of properly by her last owner n' now she don't trust men. Maybe she'll take to you." The man calls. 

You look to her sides, to the scarred over wounds on either side of her stomach where spurs have dug in harshly, and to the sores on her mouth from where a torturous bit has been yanked far too often. 

"Oh you poor girl." You coo, taking a step towards her. 

Arthur shifts behind you, wanting to just grab you and pull you backwards. But he knows by now not to question you. You can handle your own. Still, it doesn't help his anxiety as he glances at Hosea. 

The horse is locked onto you. She has stopped rearing, but she snorts and huffs, prancing and snorting nervously. 

"Drop the rope." You order the boy, but he hesitates, stuttering. 

"I- I can't, I shouldn't. She'll run off again, and my boss-" 

"The lady wasn't askin', now drop the damn rope." Arthur orders from behind you, and your lips crack into a small smile, grateful that he has your back, that he trusts your sometimes insane decisions. 

The kid obliges, immediately dropping it to the ground. Your fingers are crossed, and much to your relief, the mare stays put. 

Her crystal blue eyes are locked onto you, separated only by the thick, long white forelock that covers part of her face. Her golden coat is broken up by a thick white blaze, and she has four tall white stockings. 

"Easy there girl, I'm not gonna hurt ya." You whisper, inching towards her. She stomps her right hoof, ears pinned back. You stand still, waiting for them to pop back up before you continue. 

She has a presence about her, something deeply human about those eyes. There's a sense of understanding in them, a clarity that you find only in the rarest of beasts. 

"She's got that affinity for animals too, huh?" Hosea whispers to Arthur, looking between you and him. 

Hosea notices that Arthur doesn't turn his head, doesn't acknowledge the older man because his eyes are locked onto your back, watching as you approach the mare. Arthur is looking after you with a small smile, a glint in his eyes that Hosea hasn't seen in so long. He doesn't remember the last time he's seen Arthur with so much… life in his eyes.

"She's incredible ain't she?" Arthur whispers back, eyes glued onto you as he speaks. Hosea brings his hand up to Arthur's shoulder, offering it a light squeeze. 

"She sure is, son." 

Oblivious to their conversation, you shush to the horse, calming her down some. No one moves save for you, not wanting to interrupt this moment, lest the mare run off again.

"That's a good girl, see I'm friendly I swear it." You whisper, smiling as the horse stands steady on her feet, ears coming forward curiously towards you. Holding your breath, your fingertips reach out, inches away from her pale nose. She snorts, sniffing at you, gauging your intentions. 

At the same time, you move towards each other, and your fingers brush against her soft coat. At first the mare hesitates, but after a second she leans into your touch. You laugh, petting under her forelock. When you turn around to show Arthur what you've done, you find him sweetly looking over you, eyes bright, proud. 

You gently reach and grab the rope from her neck, using it to lead her back towards the stables.

"I ain't never seen nothing like it miss! She just- she just calmed right down for ya!" The stableboy says excitedly as you lead the mare back inside, followed by Hosea and Arthur with the other horses.

Hosea and Arthut deal with their horses, selling, buying and stabling while you chat with the stable hand. 

"Can I help you with anything? Seein as you helped me out." The young worker asks you as the older one helps Hosea pick out a ride. 

You hold the mare's rope in your hand, scanning down over the other stalls. There's a dappled standardbred, a silver turkoman, a roan nokota, a morgan… nothing that catches your eye. 

You turn back towards the mare at your side, then to the stable boy. 

"I want her." You say, no chance of compromise in your voice. The stablehand looks at you oddly.

"You- you want her? Miss I don't think that's such a good idea, she ain't right in the head!" He explains, but you've found your resolve, and you are going home with this mare, one way or another.

"You turnin' down a customer?" You bite, raising an eyebrow at the boy and purposely drawing his attention to his boss. Surely the owner won't appreciate his hand turning away a paying customer. 

"No! No of course not, ma'am!" 

"That's what I thought. She have papers?" You ask him, and he turns around with a sigh. 

“Yeah she got papers.”

You nod, satisfied with the response.

“She’ll be nine hundred n’ fifty, miss.” The boy says, handing you your papers and your gut sinks. $950?  Quickly coming up with an idea, you smooth your face over with a small smile. 

“I'll take her for fifty.”

The boy laughs, snorting at your attempt at a bargain. 

“We already lost enough money on this horse. You can have her for nine hundred.” 

You squint, eyeing the man up and down. 

“Seventy five.” You bite. 

“I'm sorry lady, that just ain’t happenin’. This is one of the nicest horses we’ve had, and I can’t just hand her to you for nothin.” He says, chuckling as if you’re crazy. 

“You sure about that? This horse nearly killed you.” You lean back on your heels, eyebrows raised, “You said she don’t like men, right? If I walk away now are you even gonna be able to lead her to a stall?”

The boy glances between the horse and you, and the mare pins her ears at him, biting out as if she wants to rip him apart. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his face before looking back to you.

“Four hundred.” He offers you, and you squint, releasing a little of the mare’s lead so her bites and kicks towards the man land a little closer to his face. 

“Two hundred.” You bite, and the man rolls his eyes. 

“Listen, lady, my pa will kill me-” He starts but you interrupt him. Hosea and Arthur have already checked out and boarded their horses, and they watch you with amused chuckles. 

“You’re startin’ to piss me off mister! Would you rather your pa kill you, or this horse? Cause the more you continue to irritate me, the looser this rope gets, and, the lower my offers get. Now, let's try that again. I’ll take her for one hundred.” You bite, leaving go of some more rope and the man has to back up to avoid the mare’s pinned ears and kicks.

“Jesus! Fine, a hundred works. Just, get her away from me.” The boy yells, and you pull her rope back in towards you, calming her down with a very satisfied smirk on your lips. 

Arthur pays the man the hundred dollars, and you switch saddles from your buckskin before stabling the horse. Arthur picks out some carrots for everyone’s new horse’s and before long the three of you are walking out satisfied, with three new rides. You stop outside of the stables as everyone mounts up. Hosea had purchased the turkoman, and now he swings a leg over it with a very satisfied grin. 

“So we all got new rides, eh?” Hosea chuckles, waiting for you and Arthur to mount up.

“It seems so.” Arthur chuckles, watching as you comfort your palomino before getting up into the saddle. She feels nice to ride, got solid feet, and she doesn’t buck or fret. You pat her neck once you’re in the saddle, and then signal to the boys that you’re ready to head out.

“This one should do me good. Got nice bloodlines, a good age.” Hosea says, waiting for Arthur to mount up. 

“What about her? You pick out a name yet?” Arthur asks, pointing lightly towards your horse for a moment. You frown slightly. 

“No. I ain't much good with pickin’ names out truthfully, maybe somethin’ will come to me eventually.” You mumble

“Awe, well ya gotta pick somethin’ out. Horse as fine as that needs a proper name… She’s a spitfire for sure. You gotta find a name that fits her spirit too.” Arthur explains, placing a foot into the saddle and swinging a leg over. You hum, thinking. 

“Well what would you name her, Arthur?” Hosea asks, turning his horse around to butt in a little. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I was just thinkin-”

“C’mon, what would you pick? Tell me.”You interrupt his ramblings and Arthur looks down at his saddle horn. 

“I guess I’d call her Athena. War, wisdom, beauty, sure seems to fit her description.” Arthur says, looking the mare over. Hosea smiles a bit, as do you because you can’t believe he’s hidden this apparent interest in mythology from you. First Balius, now Athena? He’s so complex, you smile.

“Athena” You test out the name, liking the way it rolls off your tongue, and even the mare’s ears prick up when you say it. 

“Athena it is…” You whisper, smiling as you lean to pet the mare's neck. Arthur chuckles, watching the two of you. 

“We best be on our way then, by the time we get up there it’ll be good huntin’ hours.” Hosea calls out, trotting up the road. You and Arthur follow after him, making a triangle formation up the main road. You all pass the building that's half built, and you notice they’ve made some more progress, as wooden beams stick up, framing the roof. There's a ‘coming soon!’ sign plastered out front. 

“Say what are they building there, anyway?” You ask, watching as the workers carry cut beams and tools. 

“A blacksmith I hear, some real peculiar feller. They say he's real… imaginative. Sounds to me like he’d be better off in a city, but he liked the ‘quaintness’ of Valentine.” Hosea pipes up from ahead. 

“He’s… imaginative?” You ask, unsure of the creative limits to Blacksmithing of all things.

“They say he makes decorations, jewelry, all kinds of peculiar trinkets and the like. Alongside regular stuff, of course. He makes tools, and the odd bits are more of a side gig.” Hosea explains, trotting around the bend past the sheriff’s office. 

“Strange…” You mumble, glancing back at the building one last time before it disappears behind the sheriff's office. 

“Where exactly we headin’?” Arthur asks, spurring Balius into a canter now that you’re all out of town. 

“A little stead, called O'Creagh’s run. Beautiful hunting up there, but it’s a bit far.”

“Let’s ride, then.” Arthur responds, and you all push your horses into a gallop. You use vocal cues, not wanting to touch Athena’s sides with your spurs. She responds well, and within no time you’re all galloping back up north. 

— — — — 

A few long hours later you finally arrive. O’Creagh’s run is a beautiful little place, with wildflowers, grassy hills and a glass-clear pond with massive fish swimming through it. As you ride past, you see a man in a boat, fishing over the waters. 

“Just a bit further, we can leave the horses up ahead off the road.” Hosea says, veering from the road and trotting up a small hill. Big boulders stick out of the ground in places, and you maneuver Athena around them. 

Hosea leads you to a little opening, and he slides down from his horse. 

“Why don’t you grab that gun? And whatever bullets you see fit. We’ll let dear Arthur here shoot the bastard.” Hosea chuckles, pulling out a map and looking it over for a few moments before nodding. 

“Alright this is the place to start lookin.” Hosea says as you pull the springfield rifle from your saddle, loading it with express bullets.

“And what exactly are we lookin’ for?” You ask, never having hunted before. 

“Bear shit, tracks, fur, blood, anythin’ really.” Arthur answers, patting Balius before coming towards you.

You nod, falling into step with Arthur as you both follow Hosea. The three of you walk around for a long while, scanning the ground, slowly inching around. You see nothing but rocks, grass, leaves, and sticks. Arthur has noticed that you sigh loudly every few minutes, kicking a rock or a stick out of your way as you grumpily walk around in search of anything.

“Arthur, this is boring as hell.” You whisper out of earshot from Hosea. Arthur chuckles lightly, rubbing at his stubble.

“You won’t be sayin’ that when there's a half ton beast comin’ at you.”

“If we ever find it that is.” You huff, crossing your arms as you follow the men. After a few minutes, Hosea stops, waving you both to come over. 

“Bear dung here, fresh.” Hosea explains, looking over the pile. 

“Never thought I’d be glad to hear it…” You mumble under your breath. 

“How close you think, Arthur?” Hosea asks, looking up to the younger man. 

“I reckon he ain’t far. See a few tracks here,” Arthur points in the direction of the disturbed trail. “They disappear up here, it splits off into two trails.” 

You look at the two trails. One wraps around the side of the hill, and the other continues through a valley. You’re tired of standing around, walking slow  and looking at bear shit, so you nod, walking through the valley. 

“Where you goin?” Arthur asks, gesturing to you with furrowed brows. You turn around, slowly walking backwards to yell at him. 

“Goin’ to find this thing!” You holler back, and Arthur sighs, telling Hosea to go with you while he searches the other trail. 

You wait for Hosea to catch up to you, chuckling as Arthur stomps up the hill in the other direction. 

“I don't mean to question your thought process, but what's your plan if we do come across this bear?” Hosea asks as you pull your rifle around into your hands. 

“Well I guess I’ll shoot it. N’ if that don’t work, you go get Arthur, or we run, I don’t know.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders lightly, “Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah but now that we’re actually here, I’m wondering if this was a bad idea.” Hosea huffs, and you crack a smile. 

You walk the trail for a while, not really seeing much for about ten minutes. Just as you're about to turn around you see something on the grass up ahead. You jog up to it, crouching to the ground. 

"Hosea, I found a fish! He's eaten most of it, he can't be far now." You chime, looking at the fresh blood and teeth marks. 

"Uh, Star?" Hosea calls your attention, barely over a whisper. Slowly, you turn around. 

Hosea is standing facing away from you, frozen in a statue-like stance. About forty feet down the trail stands the largest bear you've ever seen in your life. Its face is scarred, an eye is missing. On all fours this bear is as tall as you, and your breath hitches in your throat. 

"Don't move." Hosea whispers, as the bear inches forward. You can't help it, fear taking over as you stand up from your crouch. 

You take a step backwards, and your boot squishes right down onto the fish. The slip surprises you. Instinctually, you gasp, pulling your foot back away quickly with a yelp. 

The bear's ears prick forward at your noise and motion, and he roars, spit flying from his mouth as he charges. 

"Oh SHIT!" You scream as the bear charges straight forward. Quickly, you pull your rifle around and fire. You hit the bear in the leg, and then in the shoulder, and you curse your shaking hands. The bear charges for Hosea, but as you continue trying to shoot it, it switches direction, coming straight for you. You gasp, pumping bullets into it, missing some, hitting random areas and grazing it in others. It will not go down.

You cry out as the bear gets closer, firing once again before it runs into you, a paw against your chest as it knocks you to the ground. Your rifle is knocked away from your hands, and lies uselessly far away in the dirt. Your heart pumps rapidly as the bear roars in your face, ready to tear you to pieces. 

You quickly reach down, unsheathing your knife as the bear's claws against your chest push down painstakingly. Your ribs ache from the impact of hitting the ground so hard, but you can do nothing about it as you plunge your knife into the bear's chest. It yelps, snarling and growling as you pull the knife out, sinking it back in until the bear falls to the ground at your side with a yelp. 

You pant, chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay on the ground. Your eyes slip closed as you drop the knife to the ground. 

"Am I dead?" You whisper, peaking an eye open, relieved to see the setting sun. 

"Oh my God, Star, are you alright?" Hosea calls out from his position backed against a tree on the ground. You ask yourself the same question, noticing that it hurts when you breathe, your ribs ache and there are some scratches against your collarbone where the bear had dug his claws in, but other than that you're okay. 

"Think so." You hum, just as Arthur approaches, sprinting down the grassy patch. 

"What in the hell happened?" Arthur yells, glancing between you and Hosea and the bear, dead at your side. 

"We found the bear." You whisper, placing a hand over your ribcage and hissing. 

"The bear found us." Hosea corrects, standing up from the ground with a sigh. 

"I'm sorry dear girl. I wouldn't have brought you up here if I would have known." Hosea says, feeling guilty. 

Arthur comes over to the grass where you are lying, and he sits down beside you. 

"You alright?" He asks, seeing where a deep patch of blood soaks through your shirt. It's not yours, but he's sure you're hurting somewhere. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just let me lay here for a minute n' feel sorry for myself." You whisper, breath coming down from its heightened pace as you slip your eyes closed. 

"I'm afraid my age seemed to have slipped me. I ain't as young as I used to be and it shows. I'm shaken up beyond repair, think I'll return to camp to lick my wounds." Hosea chuckles, "You folks comin' with?" He asks. 

Arthur glances down at you, noticing the way you cling to your ribs. You shouldn't be riding, it's probably best that you rest for the night.

"We'll set up camp here, be back in the mornin'. She should just rest for now." Arthur responds, and you're relieved for it. A few hours' ride home does not sound fun, and besides, you packed a bag in case. 

"Okay." Hosea smiles, "I'll see you kids then, be safe." 

Then Hosea directs his attention to Arthur. 

"Take care of her, son." 

With that, Hosea leaves, whistling for his new horse and trotting off into the night with it. Once he's out of the trees, Arthur looks to you. 

"C'mon, I'll set us up a camp. Looks like that storms finally comin' in." 

You think back to what Charles had said about the rain, and peek up to the evening sky, colored with black clouds. 

Arthur pulls you to your feet and you groan, before he whistles for the horses. 

"I'll get you settled then get that bear." Arthur hums and you nod. 

Arthur starts a little fire a ways away, getting it set up with his percolator and an iron cooker. Once it's set up nicely, he goes back to skin the bear. You grab your bag from Athena, rolling out your little bedroll on the grass before sitting down on it criss-crossed. The night is cold, and you dig through your bag searching for your coat. 

You groan, realizing that you must have forgotten it at home. Rain starts to drip down quietly, just a sprinkle, but it's enough to chill you to the bones as you bring your knees up to your chin. 

"Why ain't you got a coat on? You're shiverin'." Arthur points out, walking back toward you with a pelt and a bundle of bagged meat in his hands. His eyebrows are drawn together as he comes forward.

"I forgot it." 

Arthur chuckles, setting his things on the ground beside the fire before going towards Balius.

"Course ya did." He chuckles pulling something from his saddlebag before coming up behind you. You crane your neck up to look at him as he drapes a coat over your shoulders. It's tan with a warm wool interior, it's warm, and you wrap it around your body as tight as you can, shivering. 

The coat is so big on you, it swallows you up, and you relish in the warmth. But the most intriguing aspect of it is the scent. The coat smells just like Arthur, like gunsmoke and tobacco and something else so indescribably him that you dig your frozen nose into the fabric. 

"Don't you got a tent…?" Arthur asks kindly, worried over you. He places a few cuts of bear meat over the cooker on the fire, eying you as he does. 

"Hm hm" You mumble, shaking your head no. 

"Why didn't you say somethin'? Here let me put mine up, you can sleep in there for the night." Arthur says, checking to make sure the bear meat won't burn before he starts gathering the materials to build your tent. 

"Why don't you change into a fresh pair of clothes. Your shirts covered in blood, that can't be helpin' your chill. N' you can check for any cuts that need bandaged up." Arthur suggests, down on one knee across the fire, stabbing the beam supports into the wet soil. 

"I ain't just gonna strip down right here. Especially not with you right here." You point out. Arthur stands up, tying together the posts. 

"Get changed. You're freezin' to death n' you're worried about a gaze when we're in the middle of nowhere." Arthur chuckles, shaking his head at your stubbornness. You look down at your ruined clothes, blood spattered across your torso from stabbing the bear in the heart whilst he was right over you. 

"Fine but you better not peek." You say, standing up and walking over towards Athena.

"Star-" Arthur sighs, laughing, "I ain't gonna peek." 

"Good. Cause if you do peek I'll have to kill ya," You smile. "No man's ever laid eyes on me indecent before, and that sure as hell ain't changin' now." You mumble, not even thinking about your words. Arthur however, stiffens, hands stilling where they were pulling the canvas over his tent. His shoulders tighten and he swallows thickly. No man…? Ever…? 

He coughs, awkwardly. 

"Alright well, uh. Hurry up." He mumbles, putting all of his focus onto the tent and forcing himself not to turn around. 

You take his coat off, letting it fall to the grass. Arthur counts the pieces of clothing as they fall, flinching each time a new piece hits the ground. It seems to be forever until you're undressed, but eventually you stand naked in the night. You're facing away from eachother. And if he did turn around, he would be met with your exposed backside… but he won't. He's a gentleman and he's made a promise that he intends to keep. 

You stand bare facing Athena, digging through your saddlebag as a slight panic starts to creep up your neck. The rain has picked up, coating you in a cold, yet glistening wet. You dig through the bag, realizing that you hadn't brought a shirt. You were so worried about Dutch and money that you didn't bring the most basic of necessities. You shiver, covering your breasts with your hands. 

"Arthur…?" You ask, sounding so coy and small, it's foreign to your ears. 

"Everything okay? You decent?" Arthur asks, swallowing thickly.  

"No! No, I didn't… I didn't bring a shirt." You say, quietly. 

"Oh… Go ahead n' take one from my bag. It'll swallow you up, but be better than nothing." Arthur answers, finishing the tent as the rain picks up. He makes an obvious attempt not to look at you as he turns around, grabbing the meat from the fire and taking it into the tent. 

"Just come in here when you're ready." He hollers from inside. 

You go over to Balius, leaning up on your tiptoes to reach into the shire's bag. Your fingers brush against a soft cloth, and you pull out a neatly folded jade green shirt. It's long sleeved, it'll be warm and it smells like him. You smile, pulling it over your bare body. The shirt comes down to your mid thighs, and the top buttons are undone three holes down, leaving a little of your chest exposed, including three scratches from the bear along your collarbone. You frown at it, pulling his coat back on before reaching for your undergarments and sliding them up your legs. 

Your jeans are destroyed, muddied and caked in fur and blood. You don't bother to put them on, knowing they're garbage. Instead you opt to just wear the shirt. It covers you enough, and you prefer sleeping without pants anyways. 

You grab your saddlebag, running through the rain until you break through the tent flap, finally escaping the cold water.

"Jesus, cold huh?" Arthur laughs at the way you've barreled into the place. He has turned the whole floor into a bed, as there's not much room. The two bedrolls beside each other take up the whole floor. Arthur sits up, two plates in his hand, and he holds one out to you.

"Frozen." You whisper, sitting on your knees and wrapping Arthur's coat further around you before taking the plate from him. He's cooked up the bear, seasoning it with some oregano and thyme, and you smile for it. 

"Maybe if you were wearing pants, ya wouldn't be so cold." Arthur chuckles, forcing his eyes away from the glistening rain on your thighs. 

"Yeah well I don't want to." You bite, getting an idea, "Oh! Arthur, I brought rolls!" You chime, digging through your saddlebag until you find the little dinner rolls. You hand him one, and he lifts it up in a little toast. 

"Thanks, look, we're havin' a proper dinner." Arthur chuckles. 

"Yeah for once." 

You eat and chat, enjoying each other's company for a long while. The rain on the tent roof is comforting, and the thunder that usually frightens you doesn't seem so bad now that you're with him. After you've both had your fill, he puts the plates away. You're still shivering, and Arthur's too big shirt slips down over your shoulder. 

His eyes flicker to your exposed shoulder, and you go to pull the cloth back up but he knocks your hand away. 

"You didn't tell me he scratched you." Arthur mumbles, eyes flickering up to your own as you shrug your shoulder away from his touch, covering it again. 

"Just a scratch." You whisper, looking down to the sore wound. 

Arthur slides forward, chest towards yours, so close that your knees touch.

"Let me salve it." He whispers, and you look up to his crystal blue-green eyes. 

"It aint a big deal, Ar-"

"Please." He urges, eyes locked onto yours as you nod your head lightly. 

He reaches into his bag, pulling out the same little tin of poultice that he'd used on your thigh in Colter.

"I use this on you far too much. You oughta be more careful." Arthur whispers, and his breath floats down to your skin, warming you and causing a chill to run over you at the same time. 

He gently takes the collar of your shirt, well his shirt, and pulls it down to expose more of your chest and collarbone. You shiver, not from the cold, as he runs his finger alongside the scratch with feather-like lightness. 

"Steady." Arthur chuckles, a sound you're familiar with and he applies some salve to your cut. It's so intimate, another thing that's becoming familiar with Arthur, which terrifies you.

To calm your anxieties, you instinctually trace your fingers over the scar on your right thigh. Arthur notices, and he brushes your fingers away from your leg gently. 

"Still botherin' you?" He whispers against your skin. You shake your head, ignoring the way his fingers rest on your thigh. 

"N-no, just a habit I guess." You stutter, rendered speechless. Artgur focuses his attention back to your collarbone, neatly covering it with the poultice.

His lip quirks halfway up in a smile before he continues. 

"Didn't know if you was gonna make it down here after Colter. Thought that fever was gonna do you in." He mumbles, thinking about all that you’ve overcome. Your eyes are downcast, watching as his hand applies the salve to your scrapes. He finishes with your collarbone, and closes the tin up. 

“I didn’t know if any of us were makin’ it down from Colter.” You admit, watching as Arthur pulls the shirt back up over your shoulder. 

“I'm worried about Lenny,” Arthur sighs, “wherever he and Micah ended up. And I hope Sean is safe for now till we can get to him.” 

You nod, thinking about Sean stuck down in Blackwater. 

“Yeah, me too. Javiers’ down there with Josiah now. Charles should be heading down in a day or two to help him scope out the town.” You whisper, sighing before tying your hair up and lying down on your bedroll. Arthur hums, watching as you turn towards him on your side, curled up in a ball inside his coat. He chuckles, lying down on his own bedroll beside yours. He lies on his back, hands on his chest, thinking. You’re shivering still, even with his coat. Arthur takes his hat off, fully laying back while keeping an eye on you. He notices that your eyes are far away, your breathing slow and concentrated.

“Caught up in that head again. Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” Arthur asks, crossing his ankles as he intertwines his fingers over his stomach. You hum with a sad smile, drawn out of your stupor by his words.

“My parents… My past.” You admit, pressing one hand against the ground and propping your head up with the other. 

“After I shot that creditor I thought I’d never stop runnin from the law. There was so much blood on me, I thought I’d never wash it off.” You whisper, sighing and biting your lip to stop it from trembling. Arthur turns onto his side, mirroring you by propping his head up so you can talk face to face.

“I guess I haven’t yet. I still got blood on my hands.” You frown. Arthur nods, looking down at the space between the two of you. 

“Was he the only man you killed before joinin’ us?” Arthur asks, and your lip trembles. 

“No… After I left, I was nothing. Just a shell of a person, cared for nothin’, for no one. I was so damn angry. I killed bounty hunters, lawmen. I killed-” You choke on a sob, shoving it back, “I killed people that hurt me, n’ people who tried to hurt me.”

Arthur doesn’t speak, listening to your story. He wants to know how you’ve become so hurt, so afraid of feeling.

“God, my parents would be disappointed if they could see me now.” You chuckle, humorlessly. Arthur’s eyes slip shut with some pain, and he reaches out to brush a tear from your eye with his thumb. 

“Now Star, that ain’t true.” Arthur coos, heart breaking at your tears.

“Oh, it is. My daddy was anyway, when he was alive. You’d never come across a stricter man, in his later years anyway. Didn’t let me get away with or try nothin.” You huff, “Didn’t stop me from tryin’ though.” 

The wind howls outside, and you shove yourself tighter into your coat.

“Tell me about em.” Arthur asks, and you’re surprised by his curiosity, furrowing your brow, but continuing nonetheless. 

“They were in love, truest love you’d ever see.” You smile, and Arthur sees the sparkle in your eyes while recounting your childhood. “I was their only kid, their little miracle.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows pull together, and you rush to explain. 

“You see, the doctor said momma couldn’t have children n’ that's why she started callin’ me Star. She wished on em’ every night for a baby… Here I am.” You say, smiling sweetly and toying with the blanket of the bedroll. Arthur concludes that you’re right. You are a miracle. You had to have been made from some divine intervention, you're too perfect to be otherwise.

“She was feistier than me, even. I know where I got it from. N’ daddy was grounded, level headed and smart. They kept each other balanced. It was all near perfect… till momma got sick that is.” You mumble, looking up to Arthur. He’s smiling down at you, a warmth in his eyes that is piecing together the background of who you are. You blush, realizing that you’ve explained everything about yourself, and asked him nothing. 

“What about you?” You ask, “What was your childhood like?”

Immediately Arthur’s smile falters, and he lies back on his back, sighing. You’re afraid that you’ve overstepped, or upset him, but after a moment he opens up. 

“Nothin’ good.” He mumbles, a dark edge to his words. You leave yourself as an open ear, ready to offer him the same comfort that he’s provided you. You want to know about his parents, his life. Hell, you want to know everything about him, as long as he’s comfortable telling you. He has so many layers, so many contradictions.  You’re curious as to where they’ve all derived from.

“Momma died when I was just a kid, smallpox. After she passed it was just me and daddy. He was a cruel bastard, the type who enjoyed the pain he caused. See, I was more of his punchin’ bag than his kid. He made me steal for him, made me kill for him. I knew what would happen if I didn’t listen to him. Not that it mattered, nothin’ pleased him.” Arthur sighs, running his hand over his face. 

“Don’t talk about him much…” He whispers, afraid by how much he’s just opened up to you, afraid you’ll push him away. 

“Arthur, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, hand resting on his forearm. You want to say more  but what else can you say?

“Daddy was never kind, never good. He hurt my momma too, even when she was sick. My momma was good. She deserved so much better than that piece of shit. I wanted to protect her so badly. Was just a kid, n’ I wanted to kill him, Star. I saw what he did to her and…” Arthur’s fist clenches involuntarily, “I wanted to kill him.”

You’re at a loss for words, shocked and aching for the trauma he must have gone through. And just being a kid, he never felt sorry for himself. He just wanted to protect her. It speaks volumes about his personality, and you see pieces of that hurting little boy in Arthur today. 

“I ran away once, few months after she passed.” Arthur admits, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. 

“Just a boy, only eight or so. I didn’t get real far. He found me, made sure I never ran away again. He knocked some teeth out, just baby ones.” Arthur adds, as if that somehow makes it better, “even broke one of my goddamn ribs.”

“Arthur–” You interject, tears pooling in your eyes. He offers you a little smile, letting you know that he’s okay to continue. 

“I never ran away again, not till I saw him swing. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw me standin’ at the gallows, knowin’ I wasn’t gonna do anythin’ to stop it.” 

Tears slip down your cheeks, and you want to hug him, to hold him, to do anything to take this pain away from him. 

“I walked up to the gallows when it was over, picked his hat up from the mud. I wear it to remind myself who not to be… I know it's in me, I got his blood, his rage.” 

You glance to Arthur's hat on the ground, seeing the meaning behind it. For the first time since he’s started talking, Arthur looks at you. There are unshed tears in his eyes, ones that you wish you could wipe away. 

“How can you look at your wife, your boy, and wanna hurt them?” He asks, searching your eyes for some answer that you cannot provide. He inhales, forcing those tears back.

“He was a sick man,” Arthur growls, an anger coming over him, “I never would have hurt my son, Star. Not ever.” He hisses, and you sit up on your bedroll, eyebrows pulled together. 

“...Your son?” You ask, and Arthur curses, head in his hands.

You cross your legs, looking to him with no judgment, only worry. 

“Yeah, I had a boy… Isaac was his name.” Arthur starts, eyes slipping shut. He wants to tell you, wants to explain everything, but it's too much.

“Can we-” Arthur sighs, looking up to you with so much pain in his eyes that your heart shatters. 

“Can we just lay here for a bit? I wanna tell you everything, I do, but it's a lot, all at-” Arthur rambles, voice quiet. He stops when your hand finds its place on top of his own. 

“It’s alright, Arthur.” You say, sincerely. And you take his hands, pulling him up to a sitting position. To his surprise, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his head to rest on your good shoulder in a hug. 

“S��okay.” You whisper against his hair as Arthur snakes his hands around your waist. 

“I'm so sorry, Arthur. You didn’t deserve any of that pain.” You reassure him, but he brushes it off. 

“I was alright. All over now-” 

“Don’t. Don’t downplay your pain, it doesn’t work. I should know.” You whisper. 

You both stay like that for a while, neither onr of you wanting to pull away. Arthur is feeling more vulnerable than ever, but he trusts you more than anyone. He knows you’ll keep this between the two of you. 

"You're nothin' like him, Arthur. Nothing." You whisper, and Arthut nods, finally hearing the words that he's needed to hear for so long. 

After a few more minutes, Arthur pulls away, resting down on the bedrolls and patting the space beside him. He's just a little closer to your side than he was before. He wants to thank you, to explain that you've helped him in so many ways, saved his soul time and again, broken down the walls around his heart, but he's not sure how. 

You smile as you lie down next to him, soothed by the rain. Your hands are in between each other, resting on the blankets. After a while your heart beats faster, feeling his fingers brush against your own. Slowly, as if testing the waters, his hand moves closer to yours, until you both mutually intertwine your fingers. You smile as he runs this thumb over your knuckles. You’re the first to fall asleep, but even then, Arthur doesn’t pull away. The two of you are wholly comforted by each other's presence, just not quite sure how to show it.

— — — — 

The next day, you arrive back at camp feeling better. There's a weight off of your shoulders, having cracked away another one of your layers before Arthur. He feels relieved and more afraid all the same. He had told you more in one night than he’s told anyone. Even Hosea. Still, he doesn’t regret it. He’s glad to know that some of the dark conversation is over, and he can breathe a little easier now that it’s no longer weighing on him. As you dismount, hitching Athena, Arthur moves past you, tapping your arm with a little nod. You smile, just taking the mare’s saddle off as a loud voice calls to you from the otherside of camp. 

“You’re back!” Dutch hollers, arms outstretched as wide as the smile on his face. You turn to him, still wearing Arthur’s shirt alongside your old jeans. Dutch doesn’t miss this, and his eyes glance from you to Arthur in his tent, wondering exactly what you and Arthur got up to on your getaway. 

“I am.” You say with a sigh. 

“Good, now come with me.” Dutch says, and you know there's no room for argument as he leads you through camp to his oversized, white tent.

“What's this about Dutch?” You ask, irritated, as he holds the canvas up for you to walk under his arm into his tent. He enters after you, sitting down in his chair, propping a leg up on a wooden crate. 

“Everyone seems to be saying good things about you…” Dutch hums, looking over your body, sizing you up, to see where he can best play you like a damn chest piece. 

“That’s… good?” You somewhat ask, completely unsure of where he’s going with this. He leans back, the front feet of his chair tipping up into the air as he squints at you. 

“Why haven't you been on a job yet? A real one?” He asks, and you scoff. 

“I was on a job, with Arthur and Hosea, but you kinda threw a hitch in that plan when you blew up a goddamn boat.” You bite, harsher than expected. His tongue darts out over his lips, dark eyes scanning you over. 

“Marybeth got word of a train, sneaking through Lemoyne in the dead of the night- filled with rich passengers. It’ll be cruisin through virtually unprotected.” Dutch emphasizes the last word, a dangerous glint of power in his eyes as they flick up to you. He seems to have pieced together where he wants you, he's found a play for you to work for him.

“I want you there.” He says, pointing at you, at your brows pull together. 

“Alright…” 

“A lot of these boys- they’re good boys- they can shoot, and they can steal. But you? You’re a schemer, a player. I can see it in those eyes. You’re like me, like Hosea. We could use your head out there.” Dutch speaks as if his plan is coming together. 

“And I’ll get a cut?” You ask, making sure this isn’t charity work. 

“Of course.” Dutch responds. You nod, thinking it over. 

“Alright, whens it comin’ by?” You ask, and Dutch smiles at your eager attitude. 

“Few weeks. Talk with John and Arthur. Come up with a plan, do as you see fit.” He explains, and you nod, moving towards the exit. 

“Oh and miss?” Dutch calls after you, and you turn around. 

“Do make me proud. I'm not a man you want to cross.” Dutch warns, and you crack a smile, nodding at his attempt to frighten you. 

“Sure thing, Dutch.” You respond, and he sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking over you.

“That attitude. I would say it's not ladylike, but I've always been attracted to women with spitfire like yours.” Dutch says, voice almost as low as the glint in his eyes. You bite your tongue for a moment, adjusting your weight to your other foot, and cock your head.

“Molly know you’re sayin’ things like that, Dutch?" You hiss, and Dutch’s smile falters. His stare becomes menacing. 

“Molly and I are done-” He starts, and much to his growing rage, you interrupt him. 

“Yeah I can see why.” You snap at him. His face turns red with anger as he stands up, and the chair scrapes loudly from how quickly he gets out of it. He comes straight up to you, towering over you, but you don’t back up. 

“Excuse me? Do you know who you’re talking to?” Dutch growls, and you only smile sweetly, looking up to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dutch. I thought you liked women with ‘spitfire’ like mine.” You hum, watching as he steps back, shocked and insulted. You chuckle, parting the canvas of the tent. 

Causing the gang leader to hate you is probably not a great idea, but you can’t help it. He needs to be humbled by someone. And it's funny. He sits on his high horse, in his castle-sized tent, ordering everyone around while reading, listening to music and smoking cigars. You laugh at the contradiction in his philosophy. He is exactly what he swears to destroy: an overseer, a power hungry fool. Satisfied with your little victory over Dutch, you settle in your tent, pulling out your journal. 

It's been a busy few days. Got a new horse, Arthur calls her Athena. She is something special, by god. Beautiful Palomino, eyes blue as the sky. Took her up with Arthur and Hosea to catch a bear, but it nearly caught me first. Arthur and I stayed up there the night, it was real special. We talked a lot. He said things I'm sure he's never said before, and so did I. It was nice, having someone to talk to. I worry for him. There's so much pain in his heart, so much ache, old and deep. I hope that one day he can move on from it all, start anew. I guess I wish the same thing for me too…

[eclecticstarlightwinner]

Lighter pre-release headcannon

Poser but said in an affectionate way

Tries to hard to look cool while actually has abilities

Hit on anything that moves but feign being too cool to care

Found a copy of Rebel without a Cause and made it his whole persona but with bigger bike

Actually a sub

Really a vers cause hit on everyone but rarely catch anyone and very eager to please

Mascot of the sons of Calydon cause everyone tries to respect his feelings and validate him as a scene king.

Had a phase he never really grew out of

Actually a cinnamoroll, would not hit a fly if there's not witnesses to impress

Switch to John wick real quick if anything threatens his found family

The kind of person that can't eat lemons nor sweets for some reason

Hope I'll gacha his ass cause I need his events.